#oooh! the neighbors!!!!

[helloliriels]

JOHN WATSON OH, THE NEIGHBORS!!!

Rock Out With Your Lock Out, Vol. 16 by helloliriels

Featuring 15 New songs, including: '(Everything I Do) Of Course It's About You', 'Can't Stop This TJLC We've Started', 'There Will Never Be Another (You Chose Her)', 'Thought You'd Died (I Went Thru Hell)', 'All I Wanted (Was You)', 'Yes You Have To Say The Words', 'Touch My Hand (Feel My Heart Beat)', 'If You Wanna Leave Now (Can I Come Too?)'

Not writing, not drawing (but a secret third thing) ... ps destressing lol tagging peeps for funzies @johnlocky @ohlooktheresabee @fluffbyday-smutbynight @totallysilvergirl @7-percent @sarahthecoat @whatnext2020 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @kaursblog11 @ninasnakie @loki-lock @victorianpining @gaylilsherlock @justanobsessedpan @spooksicl-e @2smach @the-reading-lemon @anyway-kindness @anyawen @hasenkind687 @marta-bee @thenosyjournal @missdeliadili @myriath @gregorovitchworld @thelazyecrivain2 @impalaparkedat221b @raina-at @kettykika78 @calaisreno @inevitably-johnlocked @khorazir @discordantwords @arwamachine @peanitbear @iwlyanmw @peageetibbs @john-smiths-jawline @kabubsmagga @raithwithwings57 @lisbeth-kk @im-erin @i-call-me-clarence @topsyturvy-turtely @copperplatebeech @cyn2k @amyreadsandstresses @hotshoeagain @janiesprings

[bibuckagenda]

Buddie fic where in an ambiguous earlier season (before bucktaylor?) Eddie is hanging out in his kitchen while he watches Buck cook. They’re having a good time, laughing together, when something sparks an unease in Eddie. A phone call? a visitor? A comment he just remembered? That makes him feel like he’s taking advantage of Buck by always letting him cook for them. That maybe it might be nice if Eddie actually learned to cook a dish or two to better balance their dynamic.

And he obviously thinks about going to Bobby or his abuela, but he can feel his chest tighten in embarrassment and Eddie doesn’t like the feeling nor does he want to examine why he felt too seen when he thought of going to the people he cares about, so he signs himself up for some beginner cooking lessons.

He tells no one and he feels incredibly uncomfortable when the entire class is filled with older women (think 50-60s). He’s incredulous at first because all of these women seem to know more than the basics and they spend a lot of the class gossiping about people he doesn’t know. He doesn’t mean to get sucked into the drama, he’s here to learn to cook!, but then Debra mentions her daughter getting into a fight in a Denny’s parking lot and Eddie feels like he’s listening to a bad telenovela and he can’t stop himself from opening his mouth and piping up with his thoughts.

At first he’s terrified as the entire group looks at him, but then Colleen, Midwest accent and one of the more sarcastic women, nods at him and goes on about how he’s right.

Soon Eddie gets dragged into this group and while he does learn some things about cooking, he realizes that he made friends. With people he doesn’t work with!

Eventually why he was there gets brought up and he gets clocked as being in love with Buck so fast that his head spins. He wants to freak out about it, but Georgia pats his hand and smirks at him before asking if his Buck is handsome. The others all cackle when he blushes, but after they see a picture of Buck after a work out and one with him cuddling Chris, all they can do is gush at Eddie.

He loves it. He won’t ever admit it, but he loves it.

So he spends two nights every week learning what a ragù is and teaming up with Paula in an attempt to convince Pam that she’d spent two decades too many on her deadbeat husband.

(And if Buck is surprised when Eddie cooks them pasta on a rare night Chris is with his abuela, and he blushes a pretty pink color that leaves Eddie lightheaded, well that just means he has something to tell The Girls tomorrow evening in between making pie dough and trying to get Lottie to admit she thinks Mr. Harris, her upstairs neighbor, is handsome.)

[eldritchparasol]

Whelp, finally decided to draw up Mob Freddie! I don't see Freddie being much of a fighter, or anything on that side of work, he's basically a shrimp.

I settled on Freddie being a cleaner like Poppy, like a little assistant, but he mainly works in the crematorium.

Little things I changed with to their design: -curved horns -monocle because he can't use his regular glasses -shorter hair -Oleander flowers instead of Daisies

And some practice sketches of Mob Freddie and some little things he does.

[writingouthere]

singledad!Sukuna x neighbor!reader-Sukuna and Yuuji really want you to join their family! role reversal from my other series, think this will just be a one-shot though. Yuuji is Sukuna's brother but he's raised him since he was a baby and Yuuji calls him dad.

cw: Sukuna is manipulative and also a murderer but everyone's happy and you're both aware so it's okay. this is really just fluff.

"I....want you to be my mommy?"

Sukuna scowled as Yuuji looked more confused than ever.

"No, no that is not what you're saying kid. You're just going to tell her about how the other kids' mommies on the playground make you feel left out."

"But they don't, Megumi's mommy always gives me a snack when I'm hungry!"

"That's not his mommy, that's Megumi's daddy," Sukuna corrected, wondering if this was just a hopeless endeavor. He could have easily followed a plan this simple when he was four, but Yuuji was too soft. This was what happened when you raised a kid in a stable, loving environment. They lost the ability to go for the jugular when needed.

"But Megumi's daddy calls him mommy?" Sukuna didn't hold back his groan. You were going to be coming back from your morning walk any minute. He didn't have time for Yuuji to not get basic directions or to explain the dynamics of that Gojo family.

"Look when we go out there, just look sad and I'll handle the rest."

"But I'm not sad, I'm happy. We're going to the park and Megumi's mommy is bringing mochi today!"

"Shit kid, do you want a mom or not?" Sukuna asked, trying not to roll his eyes as be bent down to snap on the velcro straps on Yuuji's light up sneakers.

"I don't need a mom, I have you," Yuuji said. He looked uncharacteristically defiant and Sukuna couldn't help feeling proud of his little brother.

It had been touch and go when Yuuji was a baby. Sukuna had still been a kid himself and they didn't have any money and Yuuji's mom was even crazier than Sukuna's. Their father nowhere to be seen. Since Sukuna and Uraume had spread the pieces of his corpse around the city.

Sukuna pushed these memories aside and ruffled Yuuji's hair. "I know you don't need one, we only need each other." Yuuji nodded, his little head moving with all his conviction. "But it might be nice, right?"

Yuuji seemed thoughtful before finally biting his lip and looking down at his sneakers. He tapped them, making the red and black lights flash.

"She's really nice, I like her."

"I like her too," Sukuna said and he heard the sound of your sneakers slapping against the tiled hallway. "So let's go and look sad, okay?" Yuuji nodded, determined now and Sukuna grabbed his backpack before the two brothers went out into the hall.

You were just taking your keys out of your bag and you turned to the brothers, a smile on your face. "Good morning gentlemen, it's nice to see you. Heading out?"

That was when you noticed Yuuji's downturned expression. Sukuna saw your face shift into one of concern and he resisted a smirk.

Sukuna cleared his throat and squeezed Yuuji's hand. Good boy. "We're heading out to the park, you know the one by the high school."

"Oooh, that's nice. You like that park, right Yuuji? You said it was the biggest one in the whole city," you crouched down so you could look Yuuji in the eye and Yuuji seemed to forget he was supposed to be sad for a minute because he jumped up and down, the lights of his shoes flashing in the dim hallway.

"Yeah, it has the best swings too!" You ooohed and aawed appropriately while Sukuna tried not to smack his head against the wall. Maybe he and this kid weren't related after all, fuck.

Yuuji seemed to notice his expression because he stopped jumping to look down at feet. He put out his lower lip and used the tip of one of shoes to mess with a scuff mark on the linoleum. It would have made a more pathetic visage if his shoes weren't still lit up.

"Yuuji," you said, coming closer so you could kneel on the ground in front of the boy. The sight of you on your knees did something to Sukuna, but he pushed it aside to see what the brat had in mind. So far, he wasn't impressed with the performance. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just," Yuuji let out a sad sigh that wouldn't get him a gig in a car commercial. "Megumi and his mommy will be there and it makes me feel sad because all the other kids have mommies and I don't." God, there was no way you could be buying this, Sukuna looked at you and saw that your eyes looked a little watery.

Huh, look at that. Maybe he wouldn't have to kick the kid out, after all.

"I'm sorry Yuuji, that must be hard," you said and you reached out and swiped out where Yuuji had even managed to shed a tear. Sukuna felt so proud. "But I know that your dad is really excited to take you and the two of you are going to have so much fun!"

"Could you come too?" Yuuji asked and you bit your lip. Yuuji looked up and batted his little doe eyes at you. "It would make me really happy if you came with us. We could all have fun together."

"I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"It wouldn't be intruding," Sukuna cut in. "If you're busy though no worries, I know we'll have fun just the two of us. Right, Yuuji?"

Yuuji bit his lip and Sukuna could tell he was torn between showing how excited he was to spend time with his dad and being 'sad' so you would join them.

You looked between the two before seeming to come to some kind of decision. "If you don't mind waiting while I change, I'd be happy to join you two. Should I bring anything?"

"I think we're all set. We'll wait outside for you," Sukuna said and Yuuji went up and gave you a big hug that you returned.

Sukuna took Yuuji outside to wait for you, the kid occupying himself with a mostly washed away hopscotch chalk sketch. Sukuna alternated between watching him and texting Uraume who was claiming to be over him and his nonsense. Sukuna would take it more seriously if Uraume hadn't been saying that for going on twenty years. He knew they loved him, fucking sap.

Soon, but not soon enough, you came bounding down the stairs. A scarf tied around your neck, your turtleneck exposed by the open top button of your coat. He couldn't keep letting you be single, looking all pretty like that. He was too greedy for that.

Besides, looking the way you did and knowing your big heart, it was just a matter of time before some nice loser tricked you into settling with them and he just couldn't have that. The idea of you taking someone else home to your warm apartment with it's million throw blankets and a cookie jar, an actual cookie jar, he was convinced you kept stocked up just for Yuuji, made him want to commit another murder.

"Ready?" you asked and Sukuna nodded while Yuuji took your hand in his right and Sukuna's in his left.

"Let's go!"

Yuuji's enthusiasm was contagious and the two of you chatted all the way to the park. Sukuna saw some people shoot you all looks as you walked. Sukuna was used to people viewing him with suspicion, even fear. His tattoos, dyed hair and general demeanor making people cross the street to avoid him. Something about you and Yuuji seemed to balance him out though and people reacted as if they were just looking at a cute family going out on a Saturday.

You didn't seem to notice either way and just continued talking to Yuuji about some new anime for kids Sukuna had probably had to suffer through but hadn't retained any memory of.

As soon as you all got to the park, Yuuji took off with barely a good-bye. You seemed concerned and Sukuna bumped your shoulder with his. "Don't stress, he just sees the Fushiguro kid over there. See, they're already fucking around."

He pointed to where Yuuji was chasing around a scowling dark haired boy the same age as him. Sukuna didn't buy the scowl for a second.

He had once run into the kid and his weird dads at the grocery store and the kid had scolded him when he figured out Yuuji wasn't with him. Sukuna would have knocked the kid down a peg if he wasn't actually four years old and if his 'mommy' didn't low key give him the creeps. Sukuna was pretty sure he wasn't the only person guilty of homicide currently at this playground.

"That's so cute," you cooed and Sukuna nodded along while he took you over to some picnic tables. Unfortunately one of them was already occupied.

"Aww if it isn't Sukuna. How nice it is to see your lovely face on a Saturday morning!"

"Gojo."

Sukuna was ready to leave it there but then the bastard got up and walked over. His partner continued sipping on a large cup of boba, watching from his seat although he gave you a little wave.

"Who is this, new girlfriend?" Gojo asked tilting down his sunglasses to look you up and down.

You laughed and introduced yourself while Megumi's parents did the same. Gojo grabbed your hand when you held it out and kissed the back of it, his lips curved into a smile even as he lingered, his fingers clearly holding onto where your pulse would be. Sukuna moved closer to you and put a hand around your waist, the gesture a clear sign for the other man to back off which Sukuna knew Gojo understood because the bitch fucking smiled at him.

Sukuna didn't necessarily take any of Gojo's flirtations seriously. He flirted with every mom and dad on the playground, including him when they first met. He'd even seen him flirt with the guy who worked the ice cream truck so egregiously the kid had looked on the verge of passing out. His partner never seemed bothered and Sukuna wondered if he was just that secure in the relationship or if he hoped someone would finally come along and get the annoying man away from him.

As usual though, Gojo lost interest quickly and went back to his husband who didn't say anything as Gojo lay across his lap like some kind of housecat.

"There are children here," Sukuna said. Mostly out of spite and not jealousy that the two of you weren't curled up like that.

"Don't be homophobic," Gojo said and you snorted before looking innocent when Sukuna shot you a look.

"Alright, let's go see what Yuuji's up to." Sukuna went along with your excuse, mostly just because he liked the feeling of your hand in his. The two of you wandered closer to the playground where Megumi and Yuuji were currently engaged in a game with some other kids that Sukuna couldn't have possibly guessed the subject of.

The kids alternated running around the large structure, disappearing into tunnels, jumping down to hide underneath slides and behind climbing walls. Every time Yuuji popped back up to view he would wave and call out to you both. Sukuna still felt a little warm whenever the kid called him dad and the look you gave him after made him feel caught.

"So, I can see why Yuuji was so sad those morning. Megumi's parents are just vicious monsters," you said and Sukuna was so taken aback he knew his expression didn't hide it well. You smiled and swung your hand that was still in his, turning so you could look at him.

"I don't think that's what the issue was," Sukuna managed and you nodded.

"Right, it must have been because he's so lonely," you said before the two of you were interrupted by the sound of children's ecstatic laughter. You both looked to where Yuuji was now being chased by an entire horde of children.

"I'm the curse, you have to catch me," he yelled out and the other children screamed and laughed as they tried to grab him. Yuuji had never had a hard time making friends and that was very evident in the way he got kids of all ages, even the quiet ones to join in on his game.

"You can have friends and still be lonely," Sukuna argued and you gave him just the softest look. It wasn't fair for you to see through his schemes and still look at him like that.

"Are you lonely, Sukuna?" You got closer to him, your hand still got in his and you were so warm. "Maybe I should come home with you, then?"

Sukuna couldn't have stopped himself from kissing you even if he wanted to, which he didn't. He let go of your hand so he could cup your face in both of his palms. You moaned your approval into his mouth and he responded by nipping your upper lip, pulling you up to meet him as he leaned down to kiss you. Sukuna was about to risk another arrest by taking you right here in the park before a familiar voice called out to the both of you.

"Hey now, there's children here."

Sukuna turned to give the infuriating dumbfuck a piece of his mind when you distracted him by pulling him back to you and giving him a quick peck on the lips. He could leave the fight with Gojo for another day, he supposed. He knew he'd win anyway.

You're smiling and you look so happy and Sukuna doesn't feel the least amount of guilt in getting you here. Even if you knew it was a trick.

Although.

Did this mean you knew that all those times he was "stuck at work" and needed someone to watch Yuuji were a lie too? Or that he actually could cook and the one time he set the building fire alarm off had been because he started an actual fire and not just him burning dinner and two of them didn't actually need you to invite them to dinner so much? Did you also know that your radiator hadn't just stopped working randomly but he had broke it, knowing you would call him because your super never answered, and when he said a part was still missing and you would just have to stay the night at his and Yuuji's place-

Sukuna looked at you more closely and you just kept smiling.

As Yuuji called for the two of you to come help him and Megumi on the swings, Sukuna wondered if he had ever trapped you, even once. Or if you had just let him catch you.

Watching you push Yuuji as the boy screamed for you to go "higher, higher!" he decided he didn't care. Fuck, it might just be better. Knowing you were maybe as crazy as he was.

shout out to the dad at the park today who had the audacity to play with his toddler and have a cute dog at the same time.

also I liked the end of this so much I may just write a prequel of Sukuna and reader taking turns gaslighting the other into a relationship, we'll see.

Edit: wrote the prequel, here!

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — eddie x fem reader (7.1k)

summary: 2011– your roommate drags you to a frat party and ditches the second she sees the guy she’s been fucking. left by yourself, you meet someone by accident, someone who isn’t in the fraternity 

warnings: smut, underage drinking, p in v, unprotected sex, grinding, dancing, eddie is trying to be cocky but he’s just awkward and silly

notes: i had a blast deep diving back into my hs and college days to reminisce with this. i hope if you were growing up during this time you can giggle along with me. love youuu oooh! also i hid some easter eggs in here (they’re not hidden at all)

The basement was steamy, and not in a ‘oh it’s a little warm in here but more like, every single person is drunk off their ass and the walls are sweating’kind of way.

College was everything you’d hoped it to be and more.

Your roommate, Kenzie was the type of girl who had an ‘open closet’ policy letting you wear her clothes almost more than your own. You weren’t too keen on sharing a dorm room with a girl you’ve never met before, but thankfully—you had gotten lucky. 

You had heard the horror stories from your older sister about her terrible roommate freshman year and you worried for most of the summer that you’d strike the same type of fortune. It wasn’t until you got a friend request on Facebook and a cheery little message : 

[Kenzie Walmen 2:07 PM: heyyyy roomie (;] 

that you knew you had nothing to worry about. 

She was from the west coast in sunny California, that bright western sky seeped deep into her personality. Kenz was sun kissed and bright haired, pretty ocean dipped eyes to give her the All-American type of aesthetic that most girls wished for. And maybe it was her laid back disposition, or her thrill for living it up and every hour of the day— that landed you here tonight at Delta Kappa Sigma. 

It wasn’t your scene.

You weren’t shy or new to getting drunk, you had even been so brave to take the occasional hit from a homemade bong in your neighbors dorm a few times, but the frat parties were known for their out of control Project X style of getting shitfaced. 

And something about guys with too much testosterone and too much Adidas cologne made your skin crawl and not in a good way. 

“Prints always look weird on me,” you grumble into the mirror eyeing your curves in a leopard lace tank top and black skirt, “is it too much?” 

Kenzie adjusts her off-the-shoulder top, adding a bit of shimmer powder to her exposed shoulder, “absolutely not, if anything it’s not enough.” Neon feathers decorate her bouncy curled hair as she eyes you in the mirror, “add that silver chunky necklace, and you’ll look bomb.” 

She was right, the necklace really pulled the entire look together, and if it were Halloween weekend you could even pass as a Spice Girl or maybe Snookie. 

“Sooo, is Steve gonna be there tonight?” You ask elongating the vowels in the aforementioned name, followed by some kissy faces and porn worthy moans. 

Kenzie rolls her eyes, a dusting of pink warming her cheeks, “yeah… about that. He said he has a “surprise” for me when I get there, so if I disappear, I’m just with him, okay?” 

“Wait wait wait—” you protest, holding a death grip clutch on a bottle of UV blue. “We aren’t even at the party yet and you’re already planning on ditching me?” 

— 

And that’s what got you here, a little more than drunk, holding a piss warm Green apple flavored Four Loko to your mouth, leaning against the corner basement wall in hopes to maybe disappear, wishing you were anywhere but in this cesspool of basement. 

The “DJ” (a frat guy wearing neon glasses with bars across them, scrolling through an ipod and a playlist more than likely named ‘Get Crunk’) was playing Kid Cudi, again. Everyone was screaming along to the chorus like he personally wrote it for them and their experience at college. A headache was brewing behind your eyes as the beat thumped loudly into your chest and radiated to your temples. 

Kenzie left almost immediately upon arriving. Swooped up and tossed over the broad shoulder of Steve the minute he answered the door. You laughed and shook your head, imagining how she was probably face down in navy cum stained sheets by now. 

The hours she spent on her hair and makeup went to waste, only being seen by the dead catalog eyes of Playboy’s finest from their pinned positions on the walls of Steve’s shared bedroom. 

Another sip from the overly carbonated beverage has you shuddering, the fiery ripple of fruit flavored [vomit] alcohol scouring through you like lava, causing your face to screw into a disgusted look.

How can people drink this shit? 

Your bladder screams at you to break the seal, demanding to find relief, immediately. The black lights were zero help in disguising if there were any doors that might lead into a bathroom. Pushing from the wall and taking the last hot sip from your drink, you navigate your way to the stairs. 

A table holding lone solo cups in formation from a forgotten beer pong game is now the proud owner of your empty can.

Weaving through the jungle of fist pumping douchelords and tipsy sorority girls making out for risqué facebook pics labeled [*~Freshman Y3ar!~*] you finally emerge from the sweaty pits of fraternity hell and climb the beer stained steps to the main floor. 

The monotonous beat from the music thumped a little less loudly up here, as if the noise was absorbed by the maroon colored carpeting and the oak cabinets in the foyer. 

The house was dated, decorated with a clash of orangey dark wood mixed with emeralds, dark reds and gold. As if this house was based out of Tuscany instead of midwest nowhere— complete with the rubbery fake fruit and vines that stood solely to collect dust. 

You had never been here before and didn’t know where in the hell to start looking to find the bathroom, and like Alice, you figured you might as well try every door knob in this type of Wonderland. 

The first door you peeked into looked like it was a formal dining room, but instead sat a television on the great oval table blasting obnoxiously loud as a pornstar moaned ripples of “pleasure” through her pink pout. Above her was an extremely tanned guy rocking a set of hard abs, thrusting in a slow rhythm that didn’t match her orgasm. 

A snicker slips from your lips and you gently pull the door closed with a small click, loud whoops and whistling from what you could only assume were a couple of frat guys erupt behind the door.

Watching porn together. 

You’ll have to add that to your growing list of things you didn’t know about the brotherhood behind a fraternity. 

The second door looked more hopeful as it was adjacent to the kitchen area. Upon nearly peeing down your leg, you were shocked stupid when you yanked the door open to find a closet housed with cleaning supplies. 

What the fuck? 

How could a frat house not have a bathroom? 

Your bladder squeezed in on itself and you were certain you couldn’t hold it any longer. Just short of giving up on this quest of relief and going back to your dorm, a gaggle of girls run down the steps leading to the top floor, where you could only assume the bedrooms were. 

“…why are frat bathrooms always so fucking dirty?!” 

Bingo.

Hustling up the never ending carpeted stairs, your bladder was on the brink of exploding as you shoved past a wooden door with a paper sign that read, “no jerking off in the shower!! pipes are clogged!” 

Your sandals clapped along the sea foam tiles floors as you slipped into one of the many metal stall doors. With a swift hike of your skirt up to your middle and pull of your panties, you were finally able to pee. 

A choir of angels sang the HallelujahHallelejuah chorus as you went and you sighed in relief that you had made it. 

“..yeah yeah, okay asshole,” a loud voice sounded from just outside the bathroom door frame, “you still owe me from last time,” the voice now echoed as it hit against the tiles and cement block walls, “no, payment is cold hard cash buddy, I don’t care if you have to dip into your trust fund.”  

A pair of black docs stomp into the tiled bathroom, nearing the stall you were in. There's no way he’ll come to this stall. 

“Tell daddy that you need more money for polos or Jordan’s— I really don’t give a fuck, but you need to pay the fuck up.” 

But as fate would have it…and in your hurry to get to the toilet before pissing all over yourself… and forgetting to lock the door in your haste… the stall door swings wide open— revealing a very bottomless you, to a pair of very wide dark, deer-in-the-headlight eyes. 

A beat that feels like an eternity passes, his hand is choked against his belt in a yank to unthread it, his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. Your hands fly to cover yourself the best you can, panties still at your ankles, skirt still around your midsection. 

It’s all yells and screams with this random guy stumbling over himself dropping his phone on the ground and spewing, “Shit! Sorry! Sorry!” and you yelling for him to shut the fucking door already. 

His apologies don’t stop as he pulls the door closed, and from the other side of it as you pull up your underwear and adjust your skirt. 

“I swear! I didn’t think anyone was in there! I promise!” 

Your face burns in embarrassment as you contemplate melting into the floor and becoming one with the poorly aimed piss stains and the dirty grout. As good as that sounds you still have to leave, you still have to pass the guy who just saw your bare vag and you still have to navigate your way out of here. 

His phone lays face down on the floor, and you pray it isn’t broken for his sake. You pick it up, flipping it over to see that it scathed by with just a fine crack from one corner to another. His screen saver is a picture of a group of guys in a skatepark in the dark, smoke billowing thickly to cover their faces as they stand on the boards, the one with dark longer hair is shirtless, and painted with tattoos. 

“Shit,” you breathe quietly, “your phone is cracked.” 

You can see the shadows of his feet pacing back and forth but when you speak they stop, “oh..,” he mumbles, clearing his throat a bit, “umm, yeah, no biggie it was broke like that already.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah�� hey, if you wanna slide that under the door I can um, let you ..ahem.. finish up in there.” 

Shit. Duh he needed his phone, and you were just holding it hostage in here as your shame hung thickly in the air. God this might really couldn’t get any fucking worse.

A deep breath in through your nose, you fake a mask of confidence and open the stall door. 

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when he barged in on you, but now in the fluorescent dust covered light you dared to look a little longer at him. 

Long locks of honeyed brown locks fell onto the tops of his shoulders, covered with a green plaid flannel that hung open showing his neck and a flick of dark lines from a tattoo hidden under a black band tank top. His eyes were just as brown, round and flocked with a grove of thick lashes. Clearly he was the shirtless one in his background picture. 

He smiled sheepishly, pulling his jaw taunt as he averted his gaze to the toe of his boots, noticing your hand stretched out before him to give him back his phone, he glanced at your face, skimming his hand over your palm.

“Thanks— uh…” he started, shifting his weight to lean back against the many rows of sinks, “sorry again, I promise I don’t normally walk in on ladies using the facilities.” 

His eyes met yours and you instantly felt a heat run to your throat, his lips were impossibly plump as he drew them into a tight smirk. 

Fuck are those dimples? Of course they were. God he’s so pretty. 

You smile, “normal people lock the stall, but I was in a hurry… well I was lost!” you exclaim in a huff, fully hands on hips annoyed, “why the fuck would the bathroom be on the top floor?” 

You asked him incredulously like he should know. But on second thought…

“uhh… I dunno,” he shrugs, sliding his phone into the front pocket of his light wash colored jeans, not even looking at the broken screen as he leaned back again, “I’m not exactly an architect.”  

“But you live here?” you question, turning on the sink to wet your hands, “haven’t they ever thought of putting even a half bath on the main floor?” 

He rumbles out a laugh that makes your cheeks tingle, your buzz still in full force, “nah, you got it all wrong, I’m not a member of the ‘fraternity brotherhood of Alpha Mega Steroid’”, he jokes with air quotes, smiling wide when your lips tick up at the ends. “But I am a frequent guest, of sorts…”

This guy seemed to be one of those people who can make a nun blush, witty and dripping with a sexual charm that radiated from him like a ray of fucking sunshine. And fuck that grin of his. You’re in trouble. 

“Ahh, okay,” you banter back easily, shaking your hands to dry them since there were no paper towels in sight, “which one is your boyfriend? Let’s see I know.. Kyle? I think is his name, reddish hair, kinda feminine hands, or are you fucking Steve because I gotta say, I think my roommate might be giving you a run for your money right now.” 

Eddie’s eyes light up, a quirk in his brow as he asks, “Blonde girl? Kinda naive, head over heels for that mop of perfectly styled hair? Shit, what’s her name…Kelly? Kitten? She’s your roommate?” 

Of course he would know her, Kenzie knows everyone, and seems to leave a kind of impression on people that you envied. As bright as she shined, you were the shadow behind her. 

“Yeah,” you say, not hiding your annoyance, remembering how you got into this predicament in the first place. 

Eddie looks just as pissed as you’re feeling, “Oh, Stevie boy and I will be having words later on his lack of tact. They’re the reason why I was out wondering the halls like a fuckin’ ghost in a haunted mansion.” 

He takes note that you’re in the same boat he’s in but in your case, it’s a little worse, being a girl alone in a frat house never ends well. 

“I’m Eddie, uhh…designated dealer,” he says in almost a whisper, “for the deep pocketed asshoels full of daddy’s money.”

You connect a few dots, realization hitting hard in your frontal lobe from conversations you’ve kind of listened to from Kenzie about Steve. 

“Ahh, okay… now that you mention it, Kenz has talked about you before. You’re Steve’s old friend, Munson? I thought she meant like a forty year old or something.”

He laughs, loud and belly rolling like, “nah, minus a twenty from that. Steve and I are just close friends ‘s all… and no, not boyfriends.” 

You laugh then, all bubbly and light hearted that has his own skipping beats. Saying your name, he repeats it, a little grin on his face that he tries to hide, “mm that’s cute.” 

“Cute?” you question, an eyebrow raised as you fold your arms in on themselves, poking a hip out. 

“Yeah… cute,” he says standing fully and peering down at you, “your name is very fitting for you.” 

You roll your eyes playfully at his flirty words. Even though your stomach is somersaulting at the way his eyes seem to drip from heaven when he looks at you, your cheeks heating beneath his gaze.

“Is this the part where we exchange our hometowns and majors, because I’d rather get run over than do that right now.” 

Eddie chuckles, “oh yeah, well I’m actually here on an athletic scholarship.” 

“Really?” you question, eyebrows cocked in disbelief. 

“Yes!” Eddie jokes back, trying to bite back a smile, “if you must know it’s for Tennis, but please don't bother me for an autograph. I'm just trying to be a normal guy tonight.” 

“Noted.” You giggle, admiring the way this banter is coming so easily, maybe it was the liquid courage taking over or the fact that he was actually fun to talk to— either way, this night is starting to take a turn for the better.

“So, what does a Tennis star/designated rich boy drug dealer usually do at these kinds of things besides bursting in on girls using the bathroom?” 

He smiles, dipping his chin and looking at you through those impossibly thick lashes. Pushing off the sink he asks, “Sell a little here and there, sometimes dip into my own stash…what do you usually do at these things?” 

“Well,” you tease, twisting on the ball of your foot and heading towards the door out to the hallway, “I’m not usually at these things.”

“Ohh my god,” Eddie preens in his best valley girl/ Kourtney Kardashian impression, “you’ve never been to frat party!?” 

You smile, at his stupid joke, “Noo, I haven’t actually. Kenzie drug me out for a little pick me up after we bombed our History midterm, to…y’know— live it up— YOLO, all that.”

“Okay okay, letting off some steam after the stress of class, I get it...school was never a cake walk for me either.” 

“Yeah! But then your friend snatched her up, and since I don’t know anyone here… I was doing a very impressive wall flower guise, until my bladder interrupted that… and then a guy barged in on me in the bathroom.” 

Eddie stalks towards you, his eyes roving over your body, “Well… now you know me, soo Miss Lady Wallflower,” he cracks, “shall we descend to the basement and keep this party going?” 

His infectious smile stretches wide, practically ear to ear and you find yourself grinning just as wide, trying to twist your lips to at least hide your enthusiasm a little bit but goddamn— something about the way those dimples compliment the fucking christmas twinkle in his eyes.. ugh. 

He was trouble. The kind you had always craved but never dabbled in. But when in Rome…

“Lead the way.”

—

Eddie had made a pit stop in the large kitchen before returning to the basement. 

“Now sweetheart,” he purred, fishing around the shelves, of a pantry, moving cans of food and bags of chips, “I didn’t plan on drinking more tonight, but I’m not gonna let you drink by your— aha!” 

Eddie stands upright, brandishing a large box of saltine crackers. Your eyebrows furrow in response and he bows low, puts his hand inside the box, “I present to you, Stevie’s not so secret hiding spot,” pulling out his hand, his fingers are wrapped around a bottle of Burnett’s Vodka.  

Your eyes widen with devilish glee as you smirk, “how did you know it’d be there?” 

Eddie unscrews the cap and puts it to his lips for a long six second pull. 

You weren’t watching the way his throat bobbed and gulped when he swallowed each burning swig. Nope, not at all. You definitely weren’t memorizing each valley of cords and muscles as a single drop fell to his sharp chin and jaw. Never, not you!

And you weren’t holding your breath right along with him only breathing when those fucking glorious thick lips popped clean from the mouth of that bottle… his lips shiny from the bitter alcohol like a gloss you desperately need to lick clean. Yeah… no. that was not you…

So it’s only fitting when he speaks hoarsely and clears his throat that you are snapped back to the moment, your core keeping its own pulse. 

“He’s been keeping vodka in the same box in a food pantry since we were in high school, guy is the most unoriginal bastard I know,” he shrugs, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and you can’t help but almost pout in the wasted opportunity. 

His eyes meet yours and they look just as hungry as you were feeling. He smirks crookedly and you practically flatline from the depth those molasses colored eyes hold. He moved first, inching towards you like a wolf stalking its prey, your pretty chapstick smile daring him to come closer. 

But the fuse between you is snuffed out cold as a crying girl erupts from the basement steps, her gaggle of friends helping calm her down as they leave the house. 

Eddie shakes his head and clears his throat as if he was just as bothered by you as you were of him. Turning towards the fridge he asks, “I’m sure they’ve got some Sunny D you can chase this with if that’s cool?” 

—

The basement proved to be in the same situation you had left it in: hot, sweaty, sticky. 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes hotly behind you, loud enough to hear him above the music, “it’s like a furnace down here, no wonder that girl was crying.”

You lead him to the corner you were tucked in before, your drink still sitting on the beer pong table. By the way he is standing you can tell that this really isn’t his scene either, but after a while of passing the vodka and orange juice back and forth between you, he seems to loosen up a bit. His shoulders relax as his back leans against the wall next to you. 

Eddie’s words slurring together as his stories became more and more animated, and you giggle along, never taking your eyes off of him. Completely enamored. 

Your stomach burned with a flurry of butterflies when a few of his clients came up to him to buy, each more nervous than the next. Eyeing you suspiciously, questioning if you were some sort of a narc. 

Eddie stepped ahead of you, his shoulders squared and chest out to casually announce that you were cool and were with him. 

You didn’t know that he was waiting for you to object to it, to shove away from him and call him a pig for even assuming that you’d ever be seen with the likes of him besides in the dark, but you never did. 

Hours pass and the music just gets worse. Wiz Khalifa starts singing about colors and Eddie looks at the crowd of people grinding and rolls his eyes. 

The alcohol has you feeling tingly, a buzzing of flirtation sparks your blood and you are closer to Eddie than ever, the smell of his musky cologne and laundry detergent invade you.

Like any drunk girl, you start getting antsy, a little more touchy, and a lot more feely. Standing around isn’t cutting it anymore and you want to move, toss your hair back to some cheesy song, want to feel those hands you’ve been staring at all night run along your body as your hips move against him. 

Running your forefinger along the inside seam of Eddie’s flannel shirt, you look up at him through your lashes. 

“I’m assuming you’re not one to dance to a club remix?” 

Eddie watches your finger stroke up and down, your knuckles barely grazing his abdomen, but the small touch sending electricity to his spine. 

He leans into you, following your lead and pinching the hem of your skirt between his large fingers “you’d assume correct, the music I listen to is a little more head bangy than this.” 

“So,” you say coyly, pulling him towards you just a fraction more, “what you’re really saying is that you can’t dance.” 

Eddie scoffs, throwing his head back, his throat sticky with sweat and the hair by his ears wet and curling into ringlets, “oh I can dance my ass off honey, taught Channing Tatum everything he knows.” 

His hands find your hips, and you almost lose the little bit of confidence you have gained when the warmth of them seeps through your shirt, his blunt nails skimming your skin in small strokes.

“Do these little white lies masked as dorky ass pickup lines work for you?” Your hands are on his chest now, the black light illuminating each letter of his Deftones shirt to sparkle like snow beneath your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers into your ear, pulling you tight against him so your chest is pressed into his, “you tell me.” 

The music changes and a throwback song  

comes on, one you haven’t heard in years. 

“Guess you’ll have to show me those moves, because in typical drunk girl fashion… this is my song!” 

You grab Eddie’s hand and stomp to the middle of the floor, pulling him along with you until you’re shoulder to shoulder with other drunk and sweaty college kids. 

“Get low?” Eddie asks from behind you, his mouth dangerously close to the shell of your ear as his hands land heavy on your hips, “seriously?” 

Leaning your head back so your lips could reach him you talk loud enough just so he can hear you, “stop talking and fucking dance with me already.” 

“Goddamn…” he groans when you finally push your body fully back into him. 

It’s sloppy and horribly uncoordinated the way your drunken hips move beneath his hands. You’re both swaying along with the music, trying like hell to match the rhythm of everyone else around you. But in the tiny square footage you have in this cluster fuck of a space, Eddie has all the right moves. 

His palms are pressing you tighter into him, making sure you can feel just how hard he is, how hard you are making him. 

Courage and a few prom night dances under your belt have you dropping low and coming up slow, your skirt fanning out the tiniest bit as your knees are bent to the ground.

And Eddie is practically thanking God himself when you run the fattest part of your ass up his body, on the bunched denim by his shins, skimming the barely there fabric of your skirt against the hole in his knee, and finally up where he desperately needs your body the most. 

When you come back up he moves your hair from the side of your neck, his lips puckering around your earlobe as he nibbles lightly, “spin around so I can see you.” 

He groans again when you shake your head and laugh at his dismay, as much as he is turned on and bothered you are too, but the power of keeping him like this, teasing him with your body— turned you on even more. 

You snake your hands upwards seductively, landing daintily at the nape of his neck, twirling the wet tendrils of curls round and round pulling gently. Eddie hisses through his teeth, his hands roaming freely from your hips to your ribcage running them along the length of your sides, bruisingly hard. 

One minute you’re facing away from him, eyes closed in pleasure as he roves over your body, his lips pressed to your neck, and in the next he’s spinning you around so that you’re face to face— eyes locked on eachother, the heat and the alcohol and the endorphins are too much to handle. 

Your once labored breathing snuffs out to nothing when he leans in with licked lips his eyes fixated on your mouth. Standing. Staring. Staring and standing. You’ve had enough of this cat and mouse game. 

“Fucking kiss me alrea—”

His mouth with its plush pillow lips slam into you. He tastes like tart orange juice and a bite of alcohol. Like the way a summer day would taste if it were bottled up. He licks into your mouth and you whine for more of him, clutching onto his neck and pulling him further into you. 

When you break for air it’s loud, smacking lips and lapping tongues, tilting your heads to line up perfectly. When you twist yours again, Eddie holds onto your neck angling it just so with a glint of trouble in those whiskey eyes as he dives into the supple skin at the column of your throat. 

Sucking, swirling— his tongue is hot against you and you’re clutching onto his shoulders, your nails digging into the pilling fabric like he was the only thing keeping you Earthbound. 

You wiggle in his arms, squealing and whining out but he’s holding you tightly against him, moaning words into your neck that you can’t hear above the music. Then he’s on your mouth again, working you into a fit. His big veiny hands move along your back, grabbing your ass softly, then work up to wrap in your hair or lightly scratch at the inch of skin between your skirt and your tank top. 

Doing your own little damage to him, his shirt is shoved up over his chest, your fingernails trailing down his tattooed skin. A rise of goosebumps following in their tracks, and he stops kissing you to suck in a breath, your smile on his lips as you laugh and he whispers a breathy ‘fuuuuck’. 

Your fingers trail down to his waist band, tickling his skin as you suggest an idea with your eyes, one that you’re certain he would understand.

“C’mon,” he mouths, gesturing his chin to the exit as he slowly begins to pull you from the dance floor, up the stairs and into the kitchen area.

Eddie knew what he wanted. Knew it the second you walked out of that stall with that sweet fucking smile on your lips, shy and coy when he called your name cute, like you weren’t at all used to the type of attention he was giving.

And maybe you didn’t want this with him. Maybe you were a: ‘fuck-me-in-the-dark-so-I-won’t-be-embarrassed-by-being-seen-with-you’ type of girl, but you did dance with him, you laughed at his stupid jokes, stuck by him almost all night, but still he needed to be sure. 

He thought maybe in the brighter light you’d change your mind about what you wanted, what you needed from him, but you surprise him when you cling to his side, going up the steps, and backing into a wall pulling him with you by his shirt needily when you reach the top.

“D’ you uh..wanna get outta here?” he slurs, almost sleepily, his bangs fucked up beyond belief, his hair drenched and sticky with sweat and humidity, lips swollen red.

“My dorm isn’t far,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes running your finger along the waist of his jeans, “across campus.” 

Eddie chuckles, “fuck…” he sweeps a thumb over your pouted lips, groaning as he bites his own. “I’d crawl to fuckin’ Alaska for these, honey.” 

Your cheeks burn sweetly from his inebriated compliments. And even though you’re tipsy and so is he, you feel an odd sort of comfort with him—one you haven’t experienced before. 

“Let’s go then,” you whisper into his ear, “I want you inside me.” 

That did it for him. 

Eddie was all but running with you across the campus green, but not before taking off his long sleeved shirt and placing it over your shoulders murmuring how it was freezing and you’d probably get sick. 

Your combined laughter ricocheted off concrete forums and neatly trimmed grass. Passing by the fancy Chemistry Lab building, the Art Museum, the Med School and finally to your painted black brick dorm building: “Wheeler Hall” 

“Here’s home,” you sing out, placing your key into the door and pulling on the steel handle. 

The Wheeler Dorms were the newest addition to the college town. Named after a family that was killed in an accident back in the 80’s or something… you didn’t really remember what happened. 

The side door you had come in through was closest to your room, 011, on the first floor, again, the universe being kind to you. 

“Never been here before,” Eddie said looking around with wide eyes, “any of the dorms actually.” 

You smiled upon unlocking your room and entering, hanging up your keys on the command strip hooks by the door. Whatever confidence he had back at the party is now deflated a bit once he realizes just how different the two of you are. What the hell was he doing here? You’re in college, he’s only here because he deals. 

“Uhh..?” he questions, eyeing the lofted bed, “you know I was joking about being an athlete, right?” 

You giggle and toss your purse onto the futon, “relax, that’s Kenzie’s bed, mine is the shorter one.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” he practically sings letting out an over exaggerated sigh as he plops down on your futon, eyeing the leopard throw blanket, “I may look like a suave Casanova but I’m about as agile as Mr. Bean.” 

Laughter fills the room and you click on a lamp throwing the room into a cozy ambience as you slip off your sandals and sit on your bed, leaning forward, “you’re way hotter than him.” 

Eddie blushes a bubble gum pink sheen, using his still damp and unruly hair to cover his face, “keep being sweet on me see where it gets you.” 

“Is that supposed to be a threat, or a promise?”

“Oh baby, I don’t make threats, not to a girl that’s like you.” 

“Like me?” 

“Yeah you,” he deadpans, standing up and waltzing towards your bed, crowding you in, “funny, sexy, and by some greater power— digs me… at least I hope.” 

“I’m not the type of girl to bring a guy back to my place, Eddie,” you nearly whisper, putting a finger into his dangling necklace and pulling him forward, “you’d be the first.” 

Eddie places his hands next you on the bed, “like your first? Or just here in college first, I’m cool with either I just— are you sure you want this? I can leave if y—”

Cutting him off you kiss him, but not like the heavy kisses earlier when you two were making out like you were each other's oxygen masks, this one is sweet, like melted  sugar on Eddie’s tongue. 

“You talk too much,” you say with a warm smile, wrapping a finger around his curled ends of hair, “no more of that, just kiss me.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist and shifts you up further into the bed, laying your head on a pillow his body pressed into yours. He takes his time with you, kissing your lips then your jaw, working his way down your neck to where the bruises he’s already sucked into your skin were painted. 

Your moans and little breathy sighs have him hard against his zipper, his hips bucking into the tiny fabric of your panties that’s covering up that sweet pussy he got a glimpse of earlier. 

His shirt is somewhere on the floor, you had pried it off of him between locked lips and groans of having to move your lips from his that earned you a throaty laugh from him and the sexiest eyes that drove into you with an intense ferocity. 

He lowers further down your body, kissing every inch, moving your tank top out of the way to eye your orange bra, his mouth between your cleavage, moaning about how orange is now his favorite color. 

Eddie’s everywhere all at once, a hand traveling up and down your thigh, from the crux of your knee to the waistband of your skirt, the other hand is popping your tits out from that new found favorite colored bra of his —smiling wickedly at your peaked nipples. 

You moan lustful bliss as his tongue circles each one, giving equal attention to both, “you like that?” he asks.

“Feels so good,” you whine, “more, please.” 

Eddie smirks with your nipple between his teeth, “don’t have to ask me twice.” 

You weren’t a virgin, but holy shit you felt as if you had never had sex before, well never sex like this. Eddie teased you with his fingers, his thumb rubbing your clit while his fingers pumped inside of you, each curling inward towards a place nobody has reached before. 

He groaned with his bottom lip tucked between his sharp bite rubbing his achy cock through his jeans when you pushed your skirt down laying there in a matching orange lacey thong, bedazzled on the hips. 

“Would it be corny if I say you look like a Goddess?” he asks sheepishly, pinching the stretching fabric around your hips, “because… wow.” 

You bite your finger as if you were really thinking hard on this, hiding a smile, “you’re too much, Munson.”

“Too much?” he scoffs, pulling down your panties and settling himself between your legs, “you haven’t even seen my dick yet.”

You sit up, tits out and naked from the waist down, “well by all means, show me.”

“Greedy girl,” Eddie smirks, “did you bring me here just to get me naked? I’m appalled!” 

You move to your knees, sitting upright a bit so your face is level with his. You kiss him softly, moving to his neck and sucking just right to pull those deep moans from him that make your knees shake. 

Feather light touches skate along the expanse of his chest, working down down down until you’re undoing his belt, thumbing open the button on his jeans and yanking down his zipper.  

When your hand slides between him and his boxer briefs,  Eddie hisses, watching you pump him slow and tight. The feel of your smooth palm against his velvety shaft makes him almost cum right there and then, it’s been awhile since the last time. 

But you’re not hesitating or questioning yourself and he isn’t either. It’s almost fluid like a rocking wave the way Eddie lays you down, a team effort to swiftly shove down his jeans so you can finally feel eachother where the desperation is needed most. 

Legs hiked over his hips, he lines himself up with your gummy slicked entrance. It’s a deep and achy stretch for you, a vice grip for him. The lazy gasping moans you both emit are drawn out, yours practically breathless. 

“Holy fuck,” you breath into his mouth as he peppers you with kisses. He drags his hips out at a measured pace, pushing in just as unhurriedly, enjoying the way your body adjusts, cuffing him like a glove. 

Eddie breaks away from your lips to watch your bodies join together, moaning your name as he presses his forehead on yours collecting your mouth with his. 

“Shit…This okay?” he asks earnestly, nipping at your ear. 

You nod in gasping silence, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he speeds up. Your hands are skimming down his bareback, pressing him further into you with every thrust, begging him for more. 

He snakes a hand between you, rubbing circles in your puffy clit as he thrusts harder, trying to get you there before he loses all control. “Want you to feel good sweetheart, fuck— keep making those pretty little noises, you’re squeezin’ the hell outta me.” 

And he does. You cum hard around him, your walls fluttering and pulsing so fast you practically black out from the mixed pleasure of his fingers rubbing your clit and his cock stuffed in deep. 

His name falls from your lips in tiny little whines and he bucks into you a hard and final time before he groans, holding onto your headboard for support as he’s bottoming out, stringing rope after rope of hot spend inside of you. 

“Baby,” he whispers, “God—” he stops cold, realizing what he just did and what he didn’t do. “Oh shit, fuck fuck fuck! I didn’t pull out, I'm sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!

You laugh wickedly, your body shaking beneath him at his worried panicked face. 

He’s a babbling, out-of-breath mess, “’s not funny! I just got caught up in the moment and you felt so fucking good and I’m still a little dru—”

“Eddie, it’s fine,” you say, holding his cheeks with both hands squishing them together so his lips pucker like a fish, “I’m on the pill.” 

His face is still squished together when he speaks, “oh, well… okay.” 

“You’re fine,” you coo, coaxing him down from the ledge of regret and self hatred, “I—” you lean up and kiss him square on the mouth, licking into it and sliding your tongue against his, “I liked it.” 

His eyebrows disappear into his bangs and before he can open his mouth to speak you’re pulling him onto you kissing him deep and needy. 

The two of you end the night that way, him holding you, your hands in his hair, kissing so much your lips are chapped— never getting enough. Legs entangled together like a weaved basket. You fall asleep before he does, your little huffed breathing making his skin damp as you curl further into his chest. 

Wonder if Verizon is open tomorrow? He thinks when he remembers that his phone is definitely broke from it landing on the bathroom floor—but he’d never tell you that. 

He also wouldn’t tell you how he was supposed to go back to Steve’s tonight because they were leaving to see another old friend in California for the weekend— or how they needed to be at the airport by 2 AM for a 4 AM flight.  — or that Eddie was Steve’s ride because he lost his license in July. 

Nope.

He wouldn’t tell you any of it. None of that seemed to matter when you were sleeping so cute on his chest like that. 

When late morning comes you’re at it again, this time you’re riding him on the futon, slow like a twangy country song his hands rocking your hips. When you both finish you drag him to the showers, pumping some expensive shampoo into his hair and giggling when you tell him to be quiet so you won’t get caught. 

Steve called Eddie’s phone all night, and all morning, sending duplicate texts of rage, wondering where the fuck he had gone. 

Eddie silences the last call from Steve as you’re getting dressed, wearing a black pair of yoga pants and a zip up hoodie. He smiles when you offer to comb his hair, grabbing your wrist to pull you onto his lap kissing behind your ear. 

His voice is low, soothingly sweet and minty from your toothpaste as he asks, “can I take you to breakfast?” 

[larkthorne]

you know how crowley onscreen is all oooh bluhhh I'm a scary demon I'm gonna murder this plant and in the book he like goes and runs the garbage disposal for a bit but we all know he leaves the little bespotted plant with a neighbor or plants it in the park or something

anyway, onscreen crowley is chucking stacks of books hither and yon but I bet they land in a neat pile every single time. and if you asked crowley he would be like, that wasn't me that was uh. bookshop angel magic. but! it is not.

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Epilogue

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: it's happy ending time!, lots of domestic cuteness, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), shower sex, teasing, dirty talk, someone gets a lap dance 👀, sex in the champagne room, aka sex at work (don't be that coworker!), unprotected sex (monogamous relationship with alternate bc), multiple orgasms

Word Count: 9.1k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: And now we've reached the end! I can't believe it's been three years this month since OC and Jungkook's story began!! A gigantic THANK YOU to everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, recommended, and/or sent asks about Paradise. This is for you! 💜

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you!  Tell me what you think of the ending! 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist

Bzzzzzzt

Saturday afternoon dawns bright. You can hear birds chirping outside the windows, joined by the buzzing of bees.

Those are some loud fucking bees.

No wait, that’s your phone.

Bzzzzzzt

You grab it off the nightstand.

Huh, nope. No missed texts or calls.

Bzzzzzzt

What the hell is that sound?

Throwing back the covers, you lug yourself out of bed, snatch a t-shirt from the floor and yank it on, and traipse down the hall, following the incessant hum.

Bzzzzzzt

The noise leads you to the bathroom, where your boyfriend stands over the sink, examining himself in the mirror. 

“Hey, jagi,” Jungkook greets you warmly. “Did I wake you? Sorry.” He leans over, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“No, it wasn’t you. I heard some sort of buzzing.”

“Ah, yeah, that was me.” He holds up some sort of metallic grey tool. An electric razor? But he doesn’t have one of those. You know by now that he waxes for his job, and what little hair ever appears on his face he takes care of with a simple disposable razor. “Testing this out.”

“I didn’t know you had one of those,” you say, leaning against the doorway. 

“I don’t. Namjoon-hyung let me borrow it.” He tilts his head left and right, staring at his reflection.

“Borrow it for wh-oooh my god, Kookie, no!” 

Your question becomes a wild wail as your boyfriend brandishes the razor and in one swift move shaves off a chunk of his hair. Watching the dark locks tumble into the sink feels like a scene from a horror movie, unfurling in slow motion.

You glance at Jungkook. Where glorious waves once adorned the side of his handsome face, there is now naught but stubble. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook chuckles as he examines his handiwork. “What’s wrong, jagiya? You don’t want to see a fresh new me?”

“Not if it means sacrificing your gorgeous hair!” you pout.

Of course you love all of your boyfriend. Goes without saying. But his hair! It’s so pretty and thick and silky and fluffy and - 

-and he’s going to shave it all off??

Bzzzzzzt

Another swath joins the first. Two sad curls at the bottom of the sink. 

“Kookie, why?” you lament. “Your pretty hair!”

“Relax!” He laughs, running his tattooed fingers over the scruff that remains where he’s shaved so far. “It’ll grow back eventually. You’re starting to make me think you only love me for -“

Upon catching sight of the expression on your face, he trails off, eyes widening.

“Don’t be stupid,” you reassure him. “I love you for so many reasons. More than there are stars in the sky.”

He grins, turning away.

“Your hair is just, like, 25% of that. Maybe 30.”

“Okay, I’m kicking you out now.” 

“Don’t bother. I’m going. I can’t bear to watch anymore.” You spin on your heel, heading for the kitchen. “If you need me, I’ll be crying into my cereal, mourning over breakfast.”

“Could you mourn me up a smoothie while you’re at it?” 

As you raise your hand over your head to flip him off, he giggles, pausing in his task to admire the way your ass peeks out from under the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing, before disappearing back into the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you quickly whip up a banana smoothie, appreciating how the obnoxious whirr of the mixer drowns out the evil buzzing echoing down the hallway. Sticking the smoothie into the fridge to keep cold until your boyfriend finishes murdering his hair, you sit down to enjoy a bowl of your favorite sugary cereal.

It hasn’t taken much for you to acclimate to Jungkook’s schedule over the last few months since Jennie’s wedding. You’ve all but moved in, hanging around his apartment (usually napping) until he gets home from work in the early hours of the morning. Most of the time, you stay up for a bit, talking and helping him unwind (sometimes fucking, sometimes giving him a gentle massage to soothe his muscles, sometimes just letting him lay with his head on your chest). Usually near dawn you fall asleep, and then wake at noon to spend the afternoon together until he leaves for Paradise in the evening. 

So you've become accustomed to a midday bowl of cereal by now. Of course, it helps that you’re no longer bound to the 9-to-5 life, ever since you quit your job.

The bathroom is rather quiet for several minutes, so you figure Jungkook’s completed his horrible task. So you brace yourself for the sight of a shorn head - 

-only to be surprised when he strolls into the kitchen with a sharp undercut.

“Well?” He turns this way and that, striking poses as he walks over to you. “What do you think?”

His dark hair is slicked back, revealing a shorn section on each side of his head, perfectly highlighting his brow piercing. Long strands still flow on top, a swoop falling into his eyes as he smirks at you.

It defies the laws of reality, the way something like this can make your hot boyfriend even sexier. How is it even possible?

Standing, you extend your fingers, letting them run over the short hairs, enjoying the pleasant prickle. 

“I think I owe Namjoon a thank you card,” you murmur. The soft stubble tickles your fingertips, like fuzz on a peach. “Maybe even a gift basket.”

His smile grows as he draws you into his arms. “See, you were worried for nothing.”

“I really thought you were going to shave it all off!” you exclaim. Nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck, he laughs, amused huffs of breath dancing over your skin. 

“Nope.” He slides your hand into what remains of his hair, lithe fingers encouraging yours to wrap around his locks. “I am thinking about dyeing the rest, though. What do you think sounds better - cherry red or buttery blonde?”

“Blonde!” Did you blurt that out a little too fast? Maybe, judging by the cock of his eyebrow.

“Blonde it is.” 

“Do you want your smoothie?” You reach for the fridge door, but he stops you.

“I gotta clean up first. All those little hairs…” His eyes drop to your lips. “Time for a shower.” It’s an invitation that you’re all too happy to accept. 

Jungkook first steps under the spray of water to rinse away the hairs still clinging to his face and neck. But as soon as you join him, he crowds you against the wall of the tub, mouth meeting yours, hand diving between your legs, opening you up to take his cock. He’s a bit rushed in his movements, driven by a fervent need to bury himself inside you as quickly as possible, but you don’t care, just as desperate to feel him yourself. It doesn’t matter how many times the two of you do this - every time you need him just as much as you did the first time. 

When he slides into you, you let out a loud moan, knees already too weak to stand on. He holds you pinned against the tiles as he thrusts into you, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to help keep you up. “So good, jagi,” he grunts, setting a fast pace. All you can do is hang on, every stroke of his thick cock into your throbbing cunt making you sob his name, until your panting gives way to cries of ecstasy. He spills inside you then, his lips pressed to your cheek, breathing soft words of love across your skin. 

In the afternoon, after Jungkook has gone to meet Namjoon at the gym, you decide to take a walk downtown to get a little work done. It’s surprising to you how much has changed in the last few months. Before, the thought of working on a Saturday would’ve sent you into an anxious (and annoyed) spiral. But now? You’re not bothered by it at all. Apparently that’s what happens when you like your job. 

Not long after the wedding, you’d gone to the interview Wendy had graciously hooked you up with. Jungkook had helped you prepare, but you were still nervous as fuck. You needed to escape your current company. You needed this new job.

But as the interview progressed, that nervousness turned into a different sinking feeling. Because as the interviewer droned on and on about your responsibilities in this new position, it became more and more clear that you were essentially interviewing for the same job you were trying to leave. It wasn’t a way out. It was a trap. If you took this job, you’d be caught in the same quicksand, dragging you down again. 

Despite your growing sense of trepidation, the interview went incredibly well, and you felt pretty confident that you would be hearing from the company soon. Which left you with little time to figure out if you wanted the new job or not. 

In the end, it was your promise to Taehyung that made the decision for you. His presentation to the bank was a success, and with his new loan, he’d opened his own studio. Even though you’d done countless presentations over the years at your company, helping too many of their clients to count, this was the first time you’d actually felt joy at the result of your hard work. Helping Taehyung to achieve his dream was a special moment.

It also gave you an idea. A week later, you declined the new job offer. And turned in your notice to your employer. No more working for others.

Time to be your own boss.

It’s just a few blocks from your apartment building to where you’re headed. The bell hanging over the door chimes pleasantly as you let yourself into the little shop. Taehyung’s photography studio is technically closed on Sundays, but with the key he gave you, you can come and go as you please. It’s an arrangement that suits you well. 

As you’d expected, Taehyung is sitting in his office in the rear of the shop when you get back there. He nods a quiet greeting, then perks up when he sees the second cup in your hand. You’d stopped at the coffeehouse on your way here, knowing that Taehyung is still splitting his time between Paradise and his studio, which means he’s usually exhausted on Saturdays.

“You really are an angel,” he murmurs, grabbing the cup.

“I know,” you grin, taking a seat at the makeshift desk Taehyung had created for you. He’d been so grateful for your help that he’d insisted that you use his office as your own temporary workspace while you established your consulting business. You were in no position to turn down free rent, but you’d agreed to only if he let you act as his interim bookkeeper. It was only fair. “Where’s Yeontan?”

“I gave my assistant the day off,” Taehyung replies. “He’s back at the apartment with Ji and Min.” He pauses to stretch lazily. “Thanks again for helping with the move the other day. We still owe you and Kook dinner.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you pay up.” You never turn down a free meal, though honestly, it was enough of a reward for you that you’d gotten to watch your friend Jisoo fall in love with her two boyfriends over the last few months. That’s the word she’d used for them both the other day, when you all helped Taehyung move into Jimin’s place. You hadn’t seen Jisoo this head over heels for anyone since… well, since you’d known her.

Taehyung sips his iced Americano. “What are you working on today?”

“Going over the stuff Felix sent me. We’re meeting with the bank on Tuesday.” 

Having Taehyung as your first official customer had been a blessing. After he’d raved about you to the other dancers at Paradise, you’d suddenly found yourself with a whole list of potential clients. There was Felix, who wanted to buy a food truck for his baking hobby and start a brownie delivery service; Namjoon, who was considering creating an urban nursery for the plants he grew in his tiny greenhouse; and Bang Chan, who wanted to discuss the possibility of running his own gym. Even Hoseok wanted to introduce you to a friend of his who was thinking about opening up a male strip club called Outlaws. You’d barely struck out on your own and yet your calendar was already packed.

You pull out your laptop and settle in. “What about you, what’s on your slate today?” 

“Just going over some shots.” 

The other dancers at Paradise were the best hype team. They’d spread word of mouth about Taehyung’s photography and the studio had been booked since day one. Not that his talent didn’t bring in customers on its own. But it was so touching to see the others rally around Taehyung like that. 

The other dancers had also embraced you warmly. You’d already met most of them from your visits to Paradise or the night of Taehyung’s exhibit, but once Jungkook introduced you as his girlfriend, it was like you’d gained an entire family of siblings overnight. And now that you’re on the inside, it’s so easy to see the way they care for one another. No wonder Jungkook loves working there so much. 

Well, that, and the tips he makes.

Taehyung slides over so you can see his screen. “It’s Jennie and Yoongi’s session, if you want to take a look.” 

“Oh, yes, please!” 

Jennie and her husband had recently booked a photography session to announce Jennie’s pregnancy. As Taehyung slowly scrolls through the shots, you try and fail to will yourself not to tear up. Your friend’s baby bump gets bigger every time you see her and it’s unreal to think that it won’t be long until Baby Min is here. 

Wordlessly, Taehyung hands you a tissue. 

“Thanks.” 

After spending so much time with Taehyung over the last few weeks, you understand why Jungkook adores him so much. He has a very comforting presence, which is nice for you right now, since building a company from scratch is a nerve-wracking experience. 

“So, tonight’s the night, right?” 

Again you grin, nodding. “Yeah.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Excited. But also if I’m being honest, a little scared.” 

Everyone - all of your friends and family - has been super supportive for you during this time, lending their help whenever asked. But no one has been more supportive than Jungkook. He’s listened to you rant about your worries and fears at two in the morning when you know he wants nothing more than to hit the pillow and snooze until noon. He’s made you meals when you were too busy to tear yourself away from your computer to eat. He’s spent so much of his own time taking care of you that you started to fret you’d turned into another job for him. 

But when you voiced this concern to him, Jungkook shook his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a job,” he’d said. “I do these things because I want to, not because I have to.”

You’ve never known anyone like him before. Never known someone who could be so selfless, so freely giving of himself all the time. So freely giving of his devotion, in every sense of the word. You can’t help but want to worship him yourself. 

Despite his claims that he’s doing these things of his own free will, you still feel like you owe him something. A sign of your appreciation. Hence your plans for tonight.

“Why scared?” 

You finish your drink, but don’t put the cup down, twirling it in your hands as you think. “What if I make a total ass of myself?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort. Of course he’d be confident, if he were in your shoes. Taehyung radiates an aura of exceptional self-assuredness. It’s difficult to imagine him being rattled by anything. If tomorrow he was told that he needed to perform emergency brain surgery, he’d snap on his surgical gloves without so much as batting an eye. 

“Listen, I know Jungkook. More importantly, I know how much he loves you.” Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile as you look at him. “There’s nothing you could do tonight to change that.”

The funny thing is, you’re pretty sure he’s right.

Jungkook’s already making dinner when you get back to his place. The delicious scent of gochujang jjigae draws you into his kitchen, where he stands facing the stove, his back to you. Walking up to him, you can’t resist sliding your arms around his waist.

“Hi,” you sigh, burying your face between his shoulder blades, breathing deep the ocean scent of his cologne. 

“Hey jagi,” he hums, a happy note vibrating through his chest as he rests his tattooed hand on top of yours for a second. “Food’s almost ready. Can you grab some bowls?” 

As you reach into his cabinet, it strikes you just how domestic this moment is, getting ready for dinner with Jungkook, like you’ve done so many times before. Thankfully, he’s the one who usually does the cooking, while you help however you can (typically just by staying out of his way - it’s what you do best in the kitchen). It’s unbelievable how easily you’ve fallen into this routine with him. Not a trace of fear in you as you reflect on it. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be back in time to eat with me, but I made enough for two just in case.” He joins you at his little table, ladling stew into your bowls, before he takes the seat across from you. He’s dressed like he usually is for work, just a hoodie and sweats, since he’ll be changing into costumes all night.

“You’re too good to me, Kookie,” you simper playfully with a sweet grin, but you really mean it, knowing that if you’d texted him that you wouldn’t be back, he’d still make extra and put it in the fridge for you. 

He rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears betray him, turning pink. The two of you dig into your meal, quietly enjoying the food and each other’s company. 

“I meant to ask you,” he says after a few minutes, “do you know when Jin-hyung will be back in town?” 

When you’d called things off with Seokjin, you’d made him promise to keep in touch while he was out traveling for his cooking show. He’d taken that pledge to heart, texting you brief updates and sending photos from the road. You’re glad to have made another friend from this whole experience. Especially one whose name you can drop to make hard-to-get dinner reservations. (Seokjin gets a real ego boost when you do that - he’s the one who suggested it in the first place.)

Though things had gotten off to a rocky start between Jungkook and Seokjin, they’d become fairly good friends themselves. It doesn’t really surprise you, since they have more in common than they thought (not even counting you) - both are talented and determined, funny and handsome, not to mention both give a hell of a lap dance. Also, it’s hard not to love Jungkook, no matter how you meet him. 

“Um, I think last time I heard from him, he said he’d be back in two weeks for a short break.”

“Good. That should give me enough time to finish.” He doesn’t say anything else, but you can read between the lines so well with him by now. 

“Jin’s going to love his portrait,” you reassure him. 

As soon as Seokjin had seen Jungkook’s artwork, he’d wasted no time in commissioning the younger man to paint his portrait, to be hung in his newest restaurant. You know that Jungkook is thrilled at the opportunity, but he’s also a little nervous, wanting to impress Seokjin. It’s pretty cute, truth be told. 

You glance up to find Jungkook watching you with a small smile. 

“What? What are you looking at? Am I a mess?” You grab your napkin, dabbing at your face, but he shakes his head. 

“Nothing. I’m happy you’re here. I feel like I’ve barely seen you the last few weeks, you’ve been out working so much.” 

“Oh, right.” You scratch your ear, giving him an apologetic look. “I know, I’ve been busy.”

“I’m not saying that’s bad!” Jungkook raises his hands. “I just… missed you.” 

“Kookie,” you sigh, heart bubbling over with fondness. Your boyfriend is such a sap.

You set down your spoon and rise to your feet, locking your arms around him. He looks up at you with so much love in his eyes you nearly pinch yourself. But you don’t have to. This isn’t a dream, it’s your life. Silently, you thank the universe for everything you did that led you to this man. Then you press a gentle kiss to his waiting lips. 

“I missed you too. But I’m hoping all this will be worth it.”

“It will be, jagiya,” Jungkook asserts, cupping your face gently. “I know it’s hard. But you know what you’re doing. And you’re not alone - you’ve got so many people in your corner. Like me.” He grins, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “I believe in you.” 

There’s a sudden lump in your throat, making it impossible to speak, so you let your lips express what you feel. What’s left of your dinner sits forgotten as you climb into his lap, kissing him until you’re both breathless. Only then you’re able to whisper a quiet thank you. 

Jungkook’s right. You can do this. Especially with him by your side.

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:15): Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?

Bestie 😇 (8:17): Yes! I miss you guys

Bestie 😇 (8:17): This baby’s not even here yet and they’re already keeping me busy

Bestie 😇 (8:18): Plus I’ve been craving waffles for days

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19): We miss you too! 

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19):  And you too, YN! You work too hard

You (8:20): I know 😔I miss you all too

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:21):  I’ll be there!

Queen Ji 👑 (8:22): Yes we’re doing brunch because YN needs to tell us allll about tonight!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): OH THAT’S RIGHT!

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:23): Ahhhh that’s tonight?!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): Break a leg! 🙌

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:24): LET’S GOOOOO

Queen Ji 👑 (8:24): You are going to KILL IT

Bestie 😇 (8:24): *airhorn.gif*

You (8:25): 🙈🙈

You (8:25): We’ll see

You (8:25): But thank you 😘

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26): Oh no! None of that

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26):  Trust me, you’ve got this

You (8:27): And just how are you so sure about that?

Queen Ji 👑 (8:28): Jimin told me. He never lies

You (8:29): I knew I should’ve asked Namjoon

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:29): As if he wouldn’t tell me

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:30): I like the guy but he can’t keep a secret to save his life

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:31): Relax, you’re gonna be amazing! Just have fun with it

Bestie 😇 (8:31): Yessssss have fun

Queen Ji 👑 (8:32): But also put your back into it

Bestie 😇 (8:33): You should probably stretch first

You (8:33): Yes, eomma, I will

Bestie 😇 (8:34): I’m going to kindly ask that you never call me that again

You (8:35): But you’ll be hearing it all the time soon!!

Bestie 😇 (8:35): Not from you though! 🙅

Queen Ji 👑 (8:36): Sorry, eomma, we’ll behave

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Oh god, *especially* not from you

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Okay I’m out. I’ll see you all tomorrow. But don’t forget!

Bestie 😇 (8:38): 📣You’ve got this! 📣

Queen Ji 👑 (8:38): She’s the best mom

A few hours later, you find yourself alone in an unfamiliar space. A small room, containing only a handful of pieces of dark furniture. Velvet curtains drape three of the walls, while the fourth is a mirror. A crystalline chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the glass reflecting the soft lighting, scattering shimmering spots of illumination around the room as the bass pumping from the overhead speaker makes the decoration bounce.

You wipe your sweaty palms on the skirt of your dress, wishing you could take your friends’ advice and relax right now. Instead, your nerves are jumpy and your pulse is racing. The waiting isn’t helping. 

As you switch seats for the tenth time since you got here (you can’t decide which is a better place to sit, on the pleather couch or the matching chair), you adjust your dress, hoping you look more confident than you feel. Confidence is key for what you’re about to do, according to Jimin. 

Maybe you should’ve thought this through more. More practice would’ve been helpful, too. Why did you decide to do this now? You’ve really got to work on your patience, you think, eyeing the couch again before moving seats again. 

The curtains sway slightly as the door to the room opens. Immediately your mind empties of all thoughts as your adrenaline kicks in. It’s showtime. You sit up, trying to strike an enticing pose, waiting for the man who opened the door to finish locking it and turn around. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting t- baby??” Jungkook freezes, head cocking to the side in confusion. You knew that Jimin had told him he had a Paradise customer waiting for him in a private room.  “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” you grin, suddenly feeling really shy. Which is the exact opposite of what you need to feel right now, if you’re going to pull this off. “So, um, surprise!” 

Jungkook smiles, obviously thrilled with your surprise, and crosses the tiny space in two strides. You stand to greet him, taking in his outfit, a silky black shirt unbuttoned over a pair of black leather pants. He looks just like he did the night of Jennie’s bachelorette party, only with a new haircut. The fabric of his top is soft beneath your fingertips as you lay your hands on his shoulders, accepting his kiss hello. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… you know you didn’t have to pay to see me, right?” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I’ll dance for you any time.” 

You do know that, because he’s danced for you several times now. Sometimes he likes to get your opinions on a new routine, and other times… other times, he just feels like dancing for you. 

Knowing all this, you nod, smoothing down the folds in his shirt, trying to distract yourself from the way your stomach is tying itself in knots. Relax, you remind yourself, taking a deep breath. There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s Jungkook. 

“I know. But this actually isn’t about me tonight. It’s about you.” 

Applying a little pressure on his shoulders, you push Jungkook onto the couch. He looks up at you questioningly, but doesn’t say anything, merely takes a seat. That’s so like him - to read you so well that he understands you’ve got something planned, so he’s letting you lead the moment. Just that tiny act of deference heartens you, leaving you more sure about what you’ve got planned. 

You walk over to the panel on the wall that controls the overhead speaker. Your phone is already hooked up, and with a few swipes, you change the playlist.

“I wanted to do something for you, to show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me.” For some reason it’s easier to explain why you’re here without looking at Jungkook as you do it, so you fiddle with the phone a little as you speak. “I know the last few weeks have been stressful, because of everything I’m trying to do, and I just… I want to thank you. And I thought this was the best way to do it.” 

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s watching you with such a rapt expression that you can’t help but feel almost foolish about being so worried about this. It doesn’t matter if you can’t give him a show on the same level that he does. You’ve got his full attention no matter what you do. 

You’ve got his love. 

With that comforting thought, you take a steadying breath, in and out, and then begin. 

Dancing is really not your strong suit, but the biggest lesson Jimin taught you is that it’s not the moves themselves that matter - it’s the attitude with which you perform them. It’s all about setting a mood.

So you let the music guide you. Let yourself sink into the groove set by the drums and bass. Jungkook lets out a tiny “oh, fuck,” when you start to shake your hips. You fight the urge to giggle, biting your lip in a sultry manner instead. You’re wearing a cute but simple dress, something that will be easy to remove when the time comes, but you dance like you’re dressed in the sexiest outfit imaginable, sliding the skirt up your thighs a little to tease him. 

Even though you’re only a few feet away from Jungkook, you take your time approaching him, dragging out the anticipation. His hands rise automatically, reaching for you, but you dodge his grasp, taking them in your own hands instead. Something else Jimin taught you - lay down the rules right away. 

“I’m here to dance for you, Kookie. So let’s get one thing straight - I’m the one in charge.” You squeeze his hands to draw his attention to them as you place them at his sides. “That means no touching me, unless I say it’s okay.” 

Jungkook blinks at your words, but he doesn’t argue or try again to touch you. “Yes, baby,” he says, eyes brimming with adoration as he nods at you, and again you feel a surge of confidence. 

With your back to him, you place a hand on both of his knees, guiding him to spread his legs apart. Then you lower yourself into his lap, laying back against his chest and tilting your face towards his. If either of you leaned forward the slightest bit, your mouths would touch, but you resist the urge, and he waits breathlessly to see what you’re going to do next. 

You bring your arm up, then trail your hand down his chest, across your breasts and stomach, and on to his thigh, just skimming past his crotch. His hips buck slightly beneath you, and you grind in his lap, giving him the friction he seeks. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll touch you all you want,” you whisper. 

Jungkook groans loudly. You glide around the couch until you’re behind him and run your hands down his arms and over his chest. The silk of his shirt is starting to stick to him where he’s sweating. You’ve barely started and you’re already having an obvious effect on him.

It’s not just his temperature that’s rising, you note with a smug smile when you return to your spot in front of him. The tight material of his pants barely restrains his erection. Again you sit on his thighs, facing away from him, throwing your legs out in a wide stance as you pop to the beat. 

“Shit, baby, yes,” Jungkook praises you with a deep groan when you lean forward, giving him a good view of your ass as it bounces. “Where’d you learn to dance like this?” 

“Well, um…” you pause to bend further, nearly touching the ground, enjoying how Jungkook swears quietly when he gets a glimpse of your panties, “you know how I’ve been so busy lately?”

“Uh-huh…” Jungkook responds mindlessly, far too occupied with the sight in front of him. He’s being so patient, keeping his hands at his side like instructed, but the telltale twitching of his fingers lets you know that he’s fighting hard to behave.

You decide to take pity. Just a little. Turning, you straddle him, and grab his wrists. “Here you go,” you wink, placing his hands on your hips. “Just hold on for me.” 

Jungkook hums, vision trailing up your body from where your hips are swaying to where your breasts are now in his face. 

“I was working, but I wasn’t at Taehyung’s studio. I was taking some lessons from Jimin.” 

He looks up at that. “Wait, you were what?” 

The surprise on his face makes you giggle. There’s that wide-eyed Bambi look that you love so much. As the next track on your playlist starts, something a little slower, you shift into a grind, dragging your ass over Jungkook’s lap. He hisses, fingers tightening their grip, almost bruising in their hold, but he doesn’t try to guide you like he usually does when the two of you are in this position. It impresses you, the restraint he’s showing. 

It makes you want to make him lose control. 

You run your fingers through his hair, lifting it off his face, and lean close to his ear. “I wanted to make this good for you, baby. Give you exactly what you deserve.” Your lips hover across his cheek, not touching, but your breath caresses his skin, making him shudder beneath you. 

“Jagi,” Jungkook swallows thickly, eyelids heavy with desire as he peers at you. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these moves from me.” 

You bite back another big smile. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

His hands fall from your waist as you spin around, nudging his legs apart. Following the rhythm of the music, you undulate your body down his, your back sliding down his chest, then down his lap, until you’re on your knees. Then you place your hands on the ground in front of you, lowering your bottom half to the floor in a slow humping motion, before flashing him as you whip your legs into a split in order to roll yourself onto your back.

“Holy fuck, jagi,” Jungkook gasps, digging his hands into the couch on either side of his thighs, desperate for something to clutch. “You’re finally gonna do it. You’re going to be the actual death of me.” 

Despite yourself, you start giggling. “Kookie! Don’t make me laugh.” You take your time rising to your knees, then to your feet, playing with the hem of your skirt. “I want you to take this seriously.” 

“Oh, I am, baby, believe me.” Jungkook bites his lip, nodding. His eyes follow the path your hands take, dragging the skirt up to reveal your lower stomach. Meanwhile, one of his hands has found its way to his crotch, squeezing his hard cock through his pants. You’d considered making another rule earlier, that he couldn’t touch himself, but truthfully, you want to watch him enjoy himself. 

“Good boy,” you purr, and Jungkook whimpers loud enough for you to wonder if you’ve tapped into something previously undiscovered about him, but you’re too busy to ponder it any further as you swing your hips, using his knees to help you drop yourself down to the floor again in a low squat. 

The power you feel as he watches you is beyond intoxicating. What you’re doing right now is nothing compared to the skill he displays when he dances, but you understand a little better why he does this for a living. You feel like you could do anything right now. 

As you come back up, you lean into him, hands on his chest, your face so close to his, and this time the need to kiss him is too strong, so you stop denying yourself, connecting your mouths briefly, just enough to have him chasing you when you pull away. Before he can protest, you distract him by pulling your dress over your head in one swift movement. 

“Baby,” he moans, eyeing the matching lingerie set you picked out especially for tonight, his favorite color and his favorite texture, the black lace just begging him to run his fingertips all over it. “Is that new?” 

Of course he’d notice. He’s got the contents of your underwear drawer practically memorized. Not surprising since most of the sets are from him. He’s got a thing for nice lingerie and you’re more than happy to indulge him. 

“Bought it just for you.” With your back to him, you straddle one of his thighs, centering yourself on the thick muscle, and roll your hips in slow figure eights. Grabbing his hands, you wrap them around you, placing one on your bra and the other just over the band of your panties. “Do you like?” 

Jungkook’s answer is a wordless growl as he strokes the lace. You hum, tossing your head back so it rests on his shoulder, and slip the hand over your lower stomach down further, until he’s cupping your mound. 

“Ah!” you gasp, hips jutting forward when his eager fingers go rogue and press against you in a sign of his slipping control. “I - I’m guessing that means yes.” 

“It means fuck yes,” Jungkook declares. “You’re driving me insane right now, you know that?” 

“I think I’m getting the idea,” you reply, trying to focus on finishing your dance and not just outright humping his hand. Tracing your fingernails down his forearms makes him loosen his grip enough for you to climb off him. As the next track plays, you drape yourself over the side of the couch so your back hits his lap, and lie there shimmying to the beat for a few seconds before unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. 

“Jagiya,” Jungkook rasps roughly, tongue licking furiously at his lips, and even though you’re only maybe halfway through the routine you’d been practicing, you decide to skip to the end, because clearly your boyfriend is close to breaking, and frankly, so are you. 

You throw your leg over his lap, straddling him again. Taking his hands, you lace your fingers together, using him as a counterweight to help you dip backwards, so low your head nearly brushes the ground, before you roll back up, pressing your forehead to his. You stare at his mouth and he stares at yours as you inhale a steadying breath to speak.

“You can touch me now.” 

The current of electricity simmering between you suddenly blazes out, igniting the air around you. His hands slide to the small of your back, and your arms loop around his neck, both of you pulling each other as close as possible as you meet in a charged kiss. Jungkook moans into your lips, tongue chasing the sound. Your mouth parts to let him in. 

Jungkook’s hands keep moving, gripping your waist, your ass, your breasts - it’s like he’s been starving for you, like those few minutes that he wasn’t allowed to hold you were an eternity and now that they’re over he must take his fill. Your skin vibrates beneath his fingertips, so much pent-up energy ready to burst, and you seek an outlet, grinding your hips down onto his. 

“Kookie,” you whine helplessly, and Jungkook grunts in response, rutting his erection against you, fitting between your legs so perfectly, the two of you like puzzle pieces coming together to form a complete picture of lust. 

“I’m here, jagi,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jawline and back to your mouth before continuing down the other side. “I’m here.” 

In a second, you’re on your back, watching Jungkook peel off his shirt before he covers your body with his. His kisses are just as greedy as his touches, and you lose yourself in him, devouring the desire on his lips with a wild ravenousness of your own. 

But as he trails kisses down your body, you open your eyes and stare directly at the chandelier hanging over you, and a thought hits you with startling clarity - oh, right, you’re still at Paradise. At Jungkook’s place of work. 

“Jungkook. Jungkook,” you repeat, threading your fingers through his hair to tug his head off your breast, where his tongue was lapping at your nipple. “Should we do this here?” 

Jungkook blinks at you a few times. “Isn’t this - don’t you want to?” 

Of course you want to. But all those times you’d pictured this moment, your best hope was that he’d enjoy the dance and promise to thank you in private later when he got off work. You hadn’t really considered that you’d do such an amazing job that the two of you would fuck on the spot. (Okay, that’s a lie, you’d considered it a lot. But still. Imagining fucking your boyfriend at his job and actually fucking your boyfriend at his job are two very different things.)

“I want to,” you reassure him, brushing a wandering drop of sweat from his brow. “I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “Baby, trust me, I’m not the first one to do this. There’s a reason “no sex in the champagne room” is a saying.” He sees the mix of confusion and disgust on your face and laughs again. “I’m not worrying about it and neither should you. But if you are, we don’t have to do anything. This has been more than enough for me.”

“So… you liked your dance?” you ask in a tiny voice.

Jungkook lets out a pained groan. “Baby, I loved it. I can’t believe you did all this for me.” His hand brushes over your hip, playing with the lace there. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Not true.” If anything, he’s the one too good to you. “But I’m trying.” 

He kisses you again, slow and sweet. You feel yourself melting into his embrace. Any remaining concerns vanish as Jungkook lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth again with a messy kiss. If he’s not worried, why should you be? Besides, as you arch your back, chasing Jungkook’s tongue as he drags it down your torso, only an apocalypse could stop you now, and maybe not even that. 

“You know,” you start, gasping slightly when his teeth graze lightly over the swell of your stomach, “I’ve fantasized about this.”  

Jungkook glances up at you. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I usually pictured you dancing for me, but, um, we always ended up fucking.” A flash of heat licks the back of your neck as you meet Jungkook’s eye. 

“That’s usually how I imagine it, too,” Jungkook informs you. The casual admission of this mutual secret fantasy stokes your arousal. Jungkook flames it further when he ruts his hard cock against you. “Sometimes you ride me, sometimes I bend you over this couch, but it always starts with me giving you a private show.” 

Your breath leaves you in a hiss. “Fuck. That sounds good.” 

“Which one?”

“Both,” you groan, rolling your hips. “All of it.” 

Jungkook kisses your neck to smother his laughter. “It’s not too late, you know. I can make those fantasies come true.” His tone deepens as he speaks, becoming darker. Oh, you know this tone so well. He’s shifting to demon mode. 

“Another time. I mean,” you clarify immediately, not wanting him to misunderstand, “you can give me a private dance another time.”

“Aww, is my baby too worked up right now?” he teases, and this time he doesn’t bother to even try to hide his laughter when you whine, pressing your hips into him again. “Okay, jagi, I promise I’ll dance for you another time. I won’t make you wait any longer.” 

Again he slides down your body, kissing over the soft lace of your underwear. He pulls your thighs apart with his hands so he can stick his face directly between them. His stuttered breath blows hot over the damp material barely covering you. Impatient, you reach to push your panties down, but Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them over your head. “Kook!” 

Jungkook shakes his head at your pouty cry. Leaning over you, he catches your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it to his mouth for another wet kiss. 

“Let me, baby,” he coos sweetly, and then he takes the lace band in his teeth and slowly drags your panties down your body using only his mouth. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” you moan, unable to tear your gaze away. Jungkook hums, dropping the sodden silk on the ground before lowering his lips to kiss your pussy. He’s sloppy and loud, and in a brief lucid flash of sanity you pray that the music covers the sounds out in the hallway. 

Jungkook always moves at his own pace, in his own time, and nowhere is that more evident than the way goes down on you. He loves building you up slowly, so slowly, until you’re going out of your mind begging him to let you cum. Tonight, however, he’s moving fast, slipping two fingers inside you, getting you ready for him.  If asked, he’d claim it was for you, but the truth is that he needs you as much as you need him right now. 

“Love the way you taste,” he murmurs, fingers spreading you wider, dragging his tongue over your clit. He curls his fingers, smirking at your gasp, and repeats the movement. It feels so good, too good, so your hand snakes out and grabs his wrist, and he stills, looking up at you in confusion. 

“Wanna come on your cock,” you explain.

He groans, reclining back on his knees. “Whatever you want, jagiya,” he says, fingers flying to the laces on his leather pants. He’s used to taking his time untying them on stage, drawing the moment out seductively, a marked contrast to the clumsy way he tugs on them now, trying to undo them as quickly as he can. 

With only a little bit of struggling, he pushes his pants down, then kicks them off completely. He wraps one hand around his hard length, thumb and forefinger pinching slightly just below the flushed head. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at him, taking in sight of this gorgeous man kneeling between your legs, looking every bit as hungry as you feel. 

“Tell me how you want it.”

You clench unconsciously at Jungkook’s command, mind running through all the possibilities. Honestly, you don’t care how, you just need him inside you now. 

So you reach out, gently prying his fingers away from his cock. Jungkook sighs when you take it in your hand, a sound of deep-seated contentment, like he’s been waiting all night for you to touch him. You understand the sentiment, thighs twitching as you slowly pump him a few times, using his slickness to make your movements easier. 

“Just like this,” you say, guiding him towards your slit. He hisses as you slide his head through your folds, and presses forward a bit, helping you coat him in your arousal. 

“Okay, jagiya,” he murmurs. He arranges himself between your legs, lifting one calf, then the other, over his broad shoulders. You shiver, breathless with anticipation as you catch the feral glint in his eyes. “Just like this.” 

A harmonious pair of moans fill the room when he enters you. He waits for a moment, because as rushed as his fingering was, it wasn’t enough to fully stretch you out enough for him. When you whisper, “okay,” he starts to move. The first few rolls of his hips are slow and easy, him savoring the tight warmth of your cunt around him, you delighting in the sensation of being filled so completely. He kisses the side of your knee, staring down at you as you whimper beneath him with every languid thrust. 

When your hands stretch out for him, he leans down, bending you in half to press his mouth to yours. He sinks deeper into you, your bodies locking together more closely, and you lace your fingers through his hair, until you’re breathing each other’s kisses like air. You whisper Jungkook’s name and he sighs yours back. 

“Love you so much, jagi.” 

His mouth nudges your head to the side in search of that sensitive spot behind your ear, and you open your eyes to catch sight of the two of you in the mirror. Even if the room were pitch black right now, you’d be able to see yourself lying there, the way you’re lit from within. Your love for Jungkook burns inside you like a star in the night sky, pulsing bright and steady. 

“I love you, too.” 

Jungkook’s pace steadies, his pelvis starting to bounce off your ass with more speed.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby,” you moan, watching him piston his cock inside you. “More, please, Kookie! More!” 

Never let it be said that your boyfriend doesn’t listen. He pulls out, getting off the couch, and, with strong hands gripping your thighs, positions you with your hips resting on the arm of the couch, to raise you high enough for him to plunge back in from a standing position. 

And then he gives you exactly what you asked for. 

Jungkook fucks you hard and fast. His furrowed brow drips with sweat as he snaps his hips into you. You know nothing could break his concentration now - eyes sharply focusing on your expression, ears listening for the change in the pitch of your voice. When he feels your walls starting to constrict, he grips your thighs to tilt you just enough to find the right angle to tap your sweet spot with every pump - 

“Jungkook!” With a loud gasp of his name, your climax arrives. Your cunt pulsates so tightly around him that Jungkook clamps his arms around your legs, pulling your ass flush against him so he can grind into you.

“Oh, fuck, jagi, ‘m so close.” His voice is already wrecked, sounding rough and broken. He bends slightly at the waist, forcing your legs closer to your stomach, putting you at an odd angle, but you’re still buzzing with pleasure so you don’t notice the stretch, just let out a low moan as Jungkook starts to move again. 

He bends further, sliding his hands behind your back, and then he lifts you, using that surprising strength of his to hold you as he slides around to sit on the couch. Your legs support you just long enough to straddle him, and then you sink down onto his cock, more than happy to collapse against Jungkook as he fucks up into you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. “Always so good, jagi.” You meet his gaze, struck by the love you see in his eyes. No matter how often he looks at you like this, it makes your heart sing every time. You kiss him before sitting up, meeting his thrusts with your own movements.

“Come for me, Kookie,” you murmur sweetly, drawing your boyfriend’s eye with the movement of your hand as it heads down your stomach. Your fingers rub at your clit, rolling the engorged nub around, and the delicious drag of his cock inside your constricting walls has you hurtling towards a second orgasm just as Jungkook reaches his first.

Your playlist begins the last song as the two of you cling to each other on the couch. Jungkook’s arms are still locked around your back while you rest your head on his shoulder. He sings along quietly to the music, his soothing voice wrapping around you like a blanket. It’s a favorite song of his, just as it’s a favorite of yours - the song from your rooftop dance at Jennie and Yoongi’s wedding.

When the music ends, Jungkook sighs. “We should definitely do this again.” 

You laugh, sitting up. He grins at you and you lean forward to press a light peck to the tiny mole under his lip. “I may have booked you all night.” 

“Like I was gonna let you walk out of here anytime soon,” he scoffs. He stops your giggling with his kiss, lips soft and lingering, and you sigh, hugging him close again. 

There’s a part of you that can’t believe you just fucked your boyfriend in a strip club, but somehow it felt inevitable that you two would end up here like this. Like from the moment you walked in here all those months ago, there was no other way this would go. 

It was such a strange trip to think about. You had to go all the way to Paradise to meet the love of your life who lived next door. Fate could really take the most roundabout way, but the journey was more than worth it. 

“You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the moment. 

“I want to do everything for you,” you reply with a shake of your head. “You deserve the world, Kookie.” 

“I have everything I could ever want, jagiya. Right here in my arms.” 

Normally, this is where you would roll your eyes at him for being so sappy, but that’s hard to do when you’re blinking back tears. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, so he knows that you feel the same way. 

“You know…” Jungkook starts after a few seconds, then stops. You shake him a little to urge him to go on. “There is something else I’ve been thinking about. Something I want to do, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it.” 

“What is it?”

He glances down, and there’s the shy bunny smile that you remember from all those months ago. “I’d love to paint you.” 

“Naked?” you whisper, hand to your chest, looking scandalized.

He laughs, nose wrinkling in glee. “That actually wasn’t what I meant but I’m absolutely down if you are.” 

“We’ll see,” you grin, kissing his cheek. “One thing at a time. Right now, we’ve got this room to ourselves, and I believe you promised me a dance.”

“Yes I did,” Jungkook agrees, chin jutting out to catch your next kiss with his lips. “Anything for my love.” 

“I love you, too,” you sigh, kissing him back. 

************************************************************************

A/N 2: Yes, there will still be some drabbles down the line, but this is the end of the main story! Thank you for sticking with me! 💕

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2021-22-23-24 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 3

part 1 | part 2

(tw: guns, accidental death)

Robin’s already in full panic mode by the time Steve pulls up to her place, flinging the passenger door open and throwing herself into the car with so much force that the car bounces on its wheels a little. “Drive!!”

“Jesus Christ, good morning to you, too.”

“Steve!”

Steve starts to drive.

Beside him, Robin flips the visor down to look at her reflection; groans and scrubs her hands down her face in misery at whatever she sees. Steve doesn’t really get it. He thinks she looks beautiful, with her hair gently moving in the breeze from the open window, with her freckles lit up by the early morning sun.

“Ugh,” she says, turning to look at him, “I can’t believe I look like a zombie and you’re gonna make me late to the first day of school.”

“Wow.” Fuckin’ ingrate. And when he was just being so nice to her in his head. “How about a thank you, huh? ‘Thanks for picking me up, Steve. Thanks for bringing my backpack, Steve. Sorry you almost got shanked by your neighbor, Steve.’”

“You what???”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, yes it very much does matter, what the—”

“—I’m just saying, a little gratitude? Wouldn’t hurt you.”

He licks at the corner of his mouth, spritzes wiper fluid to clear the bugs off the windshield. Robin’s eyes are bulging out of her head, but he really doesn’t want to talk about how he still feels the ghost press of steel against his throat, so: “You’re not even right, by the way; I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Huh?”

“School started yesterday. I’m making you late for the second day of school.”

“Yesss,” she draws the word out like he’s stupid, rolling her wrist in a hurry up and get it motion, “but everyone knows that syllabus day doesn’t count. The first pep rally is the real first day of school.”

Ah, there it is.

Steve steals another peek at his best friend while they’re on a straightaway, notes the nervous twitch of her hands as she goes back to fussing at her reflection; the way she’s clumping her lashes together with seven coats too many of some drugstore brand mascara. She’s wearing lipstick. “This is about Vick—”

“—Don’t talk about—”

“—It’s about Vickie, isn’t it?”

“Ughhhhh.” Robin folds forward and thunks her head against the dash. “Fine, okay? Fine! Yes! This may have something to do with a distressingly cute fellow marching band member. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oooh, big word for you, Steven.” She swats him on the shoulder, face all twisted up in offense. “Stop laughing!”

“Stop hitting me,” he laughs. “I’ll dump your ass out on this highway.”

She gasps and narrows her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Steve eases his foot onto the brake.

“Okay, okay! Mercy! I’m being an asshole, alright? I’m sorry. I’m just— I’m stressed! Being gay is very stressful.”

The knife incident pops back into his mind. “Yeah,” he mutters, “I imagine it is.”

—

He catches himself slouching down into his seat a bit when they pull up to the school. Has to force himself to sit upright, hears his mother’s tutting in his ear about bad posture and the message it projects to the world.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be here; really, he isn’t. He’s just hoping to avoid being spotted by the nuggets now that they go here, too, lest he be accosted for evading his chauffeur duties.

God.

Dustin’s nerd shit is infecting his brain.

Robin grabs her bag out of the back seat, plants a parting peck on Steve’s cheek as she gets out of the car. “See you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up for work.”

“Love you, dingus.”

And then he’s alone again.

With Robin gone, Steve finds himself driving. Wandering and aimless, like a ghost who doesn’t know he’s gone. It’s not like he has nothing to do — he’s supposed to be out finding a second job, finding a way to support himself and his mom, because he’s the man of the house now. Because his life has turned into one of those shitty, overcomplicated word problems from math class.

If a recently widowed mother works no hours and her minimum-wage son works as many as Family Video will allow, how much mold-riddled dogshit housing can they afford?

Not much.

Inevitably, he finds himself circling the scorched bones of Starcourt, driving tired loops around the barbed wire perimeter. His ghost likes to guide him here; can’t shake the place where he shook off the mortal coil.

He didn’t know it at the time, but Steve Harrington died the day the mall burned down. Embarrassing, to not hear the death knell as his family name went up in smoke.

It was hard to hear much at all that night, between the concussion and the fireworks and the shrieking of a monster being torn apart, but the memory caresses his mind now in cruel whispers: the headrush of victory; the blood and the sweat; the relief that they’d won, they’d done it, it’s over, they won.

Steve tugs at his bad ear ‘til the ringing subsides.

Some fucking grand prize.

The thing is, you can’t go around exploding an eldritch horror without alerting the US government, and the US government can’t go around letting major investors in a hostile commie invasion keep their assets once they find out about their treasonous schemes. It happened fast: the arrest, the bail, the impending trial and the seizure of property. Richard Harrington was once a small town god on an invisible throne, making deals with devils in shadowy boardrooms, and suddenly he was looking at life in a cell.

Maybe it was a blessing he died before his reckoning was due. Maybe it was no accident at all.

The second, and perhaps more important, thing is: stray bullets don’t care about your looming court date.

Dad had a habit of cleaning his guns while he was drunk, nursing a whiskey in one hand while he polished the gleaming barrels with the other. Pointless, really, because the guns were always pristine to begin with. Dick Harrington didn’t hunt. Didn’t shoot. Claimed the pistol was for home defense, that he kept it loaded in case anyone ever tried to hurt his family, but Steve knew the truth.

His dad just liked to flirt with death. Liked to handle pretty, deadly things, stroke his fingers over ruthless metal and feel the rush of power when he walked away unscathed.

He didn’t walk away that night.

Didn’t even face death standing.

Sliced through his femoral artery and rolled right out of his chair.

They found him lying on the ground in a dark, sticky puddle, gasping like a fish as blood spurted from his thigh. Crazy how fast it happened. Steve had been in his room when the shot rang out, and he barely managed to reach the bottom of the stairs before the gurgling noises stopped. Just boom! whizz! bang! and Dick Harrington was gone.

Maybe it’s a good thing, too, that they lost the house.

The image of his mother in the hallway that night — shellshocked in the doorway, one pale hand shaking in front of her open mouth, features wide and wet with waking horror as she stared into the room — was enough to make him never want to step foot in the place again.

So now they live in a rundown piece of shit on the wrong side of town, with hideous burnt orange carpet and wood paneled walls, with cracks in the ceiling and cigarette burns in the walls, some parting gifts from whatever feral hick lived there before them, and it feels like another cruel, cosmic joke. Like the universe is delighting in the Harringtons’ comeuppance; like the blackened beams and brick rubble of Starcourt are all twisting to form one great, mocking mouth; the better to smile and laugh at their misfortune.

You bought your bed, now you have to lie in it.

He didn’t even know that the Harringtons owned Forest Hills until it was the only asset left to their name.

He’s pretty sure his dad bought it more as a joke than a genuine investment. Meant to teach Steve a lesson, like how he used to bring home Waffle House applications whenever Steve got a C on a report card. This is your future if you don’t straighten up, son.

Kill yourself, dad.

Oh, wait.

You already did.

—

part 4

[takes1]

p.3 asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

skip the intro if you want/ i had a very fun time writing suga/daichi/asahi being realistic high school friends. shit had me giggling. anyways ty for all the support!! taglist has gotten big i love it!!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI info. nsfw / m!receiving oral / f!receiving oral / grinding / gentle giant!asahi / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / asahi climbing a window / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 3.7k words / multipart series so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part two here. final part here. more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

"How good are you at climbing?"

Asahi repeated his plan many times to his two most trusted friends on the walk from the hotel. They were prepared for what this was going to look like when they hit a kneel behind the brick half-wall in front of your home.

"God," He sighed, courage fading from his face the longer he stared up over the barrier.

Your window was pretty high.

"Should I-- should I go through with this? I mean, this is crazy--,"

Daichi grabbed both sides of his face and gripped hard.

"Is that even a question?"

Completely taken off-guard, Asahi looked around, a little freaked out, but was only squished harder.

Daichi's expression was stone, "You have to do this."

"Dude, I don't think any chick is gonna be this into you ever again," Suga added.

"This is once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," Daichi gave him a few hard slaps to the face and finally released him.

He rubbed his burning cheek, brow furrowed at the sudden tone-shift first, then with rising confidence. He nodded with resolution.

He was super into you, so why not? It was just a jump. He jumped all the time!

A few more supportive back-pats and half-pushes, and he was checking the look of the house to make sure Tetsuro wasn't on standby at any doors or windows. Thankfully, it was just your open window, exactly how you described it would be.

Asahi's big ass went into a full sprint across the yard, stirring a round of laughter from his peeping friends behind the wall.

The prospect of some old lady calling the cops on this giant sneaking around in the neighbor's yard was too funny of a concept to them.

Daichi snorted at Suga propping his phone up to record.

"Aaahah! Yess-ss-s!!" He giggled under his hand.

Their buddy jumped for the window, but only tapped it with his fingers.

"Noo-oo-hhha-haha-!"

Suga was belly-laughing into his arm. The brunette could hardly speak to encourage him to keep watching as Asahi looked around for anything to help him up.

To their delight, the only possible object to help him at this point was a skinny, unreliable sapling that sat an awkward distance away. He might have been able to properly use it if it was two feet closer, and if he weighed 80 pounds less.

They were grabbing at each other's hands, their laughter not even quiet anymore, when he began to climb it.

"OOoh-, Ooh! OH my-" Suga's laughter turned to just a scratchy whistle at the back of his throat as Asahi fell out of the tree with a thump!

At this point, the two were gripping each other, silently shrieking and vibrating, barely able to open their eyes enough to watch through the phone.

Daichi gasped for air when he saw him land on his ass, "AAAH!! AH-Hh--,"

"SHHHH! SHsh-ss-ss," Suga gripped his shoulder and slipped off, headbutting him in the process.

They were both whistling now, not even watching anymore, as Asahi finally got his hands on your open window just by a powerful vertical.

Fuck that tree. He was glad he left the stupid thing bent at 90-degree angle.

The two sat there on the sidewalk for the next seven minutes, overcome with demonic squeaking, gasping, and hissing, with tears rolling down their red faces. Every time they started to calm down, they'd look at the sideways tree and return to hysterics all over again.

Finally; the easy part was the muscle-up to get inside.

"God damn," He groaned in pain and slid into your bedroom with a stumble.

You swiftly got up, shut, and locked the window behind him, then drew the curtains for good measure.

From his seated position on the floor, he could see all the way up your simple white t-shirt. Pretty, lacy white panties right in front of his nose were the only thing you opted to wear underneath. He grew much, much warmer.

"God damn..." He repeated, though it sounded entirely different.

His hand reached to grab at you, but he stilled, thinking better of himself.

He noticed how pretty your long lashes were, looking down at him like he was your next meal, and wondered what you actually saw in him to make you so eager.

"Hi," You grinned and backed up to pull him to his feet.

It was a struggle to not just sit on him and make-out immediately. But the sun was just setting, and you wanted this to last all night, so you figured you could take a little time out for 'formalities.'

He quickly kicked off his shoes and took your hands, but didn't rely on your help to get up.

Your hands stayed connected between you. His thumb rubbed against the back of your knuckles, slow and tender.

You really were just a sweet little thing. He couldn't believe you were so forward over the phone.

"Hi," He replied softly. A big, warm smile down at you.

Sure, you wanted to know how his day was, how he was feeling, what he was thinking, if he liked your 'outfit'-- but that little exchange transformed your anticipation into desire, and you neededhim now.

A little sweaty from the climb, a little out of breath too, he gladly gave into your guidance to sit on your bed. It groaned under his weight, but you couldn't care about the noise when your lips were crashing onto his.

He tasted like one of those green Listerine strips- spearmint, you caught- and man, was he so good. His lips were full and soft, like you could melt into them all day. He wasn't over-ambitious, nor was he too passive with his mouth.

A growl rose in the back of his throat when you pushed his hands under your shirt.

"Please touch me," You sighed, brow furrowed, limbs growing weaker under his palms.

He sucked on your bottom lip for a moment and caught his much-needed breath. That low laughter was even hotter in person.

"God, you're so cute," He smiled, a small tease at your neediness, but he wasn't hiding the fact that he liked it.

His compliment made you melt in his arms as he picked you up to set you in his lap. The foreign feeling of hands covering your hips, pushing your softness down onto his jeans inspired a small, unfiltered whine onto his lips.

"Fuck," He chuckled, gasping at that unmistakable heartbeat around his tortured, trapped cock, then rasped, "I've got so many questions."

There was almost no resistance when you pushed him to lay down, mostly because he wouldn't trade where his hands were to catch himself. You swallowed an amused sound from him and only responded when he pushed up into you.

"a-Ah-ha," You whined, letting him trail a number of messy kisses down your neck, "Me, too."

Curious hands slid up his light shirt, massaging and prodding nearly every square inch of his hardened frame. He had some chest hair and a little tummy trail, which only added to your ferocity.

He noticed this interest and did you the favor of removing his own shirt.

The sight of his athletic build was not surprising, but it certainly made you want to speed things up. Your fleeting focus shifted to the next thing you wanted to see.

"You feel so big," You breathed, hips rolling against him when he wasn't holding you still.

Judging by the shy, modest smile against your skin, your deduction was right.

"You gonna be okay with that?" His voice buzzed against your ear.

You gasped at the sensation and his tone.

His fingers were edged up under your panties, gripping the plush of your ass, effectively driving home the question's sincerity.

Before you granted him the answer, you pressed a kiss onto his temple and retracted to sit up on his lap, "Are we asking our questions?"

"Yea-h," Just fell out of his mouth.

He didn't realize he even said anything until you responded to him. His focus was on how you rolled waves of pleasure onto his lap, back and forth, real slow, with that gone-look on your face.

"How many girls have you 'been with'?" You hooked your fingers under his waistband and watched his tummy twitch.

"Two."

You nodded with consideration, knocking out his past and future question with your present response, "Me too."

That adage sparked a look of relief and certainty on his face. His hold strengthened around your thigh when you unbuttoned his pants and started lowering the zipper.

"Let me know if it's..." He trailed and tried to suppress a shiver when you pulled him out.

He watched your eyes widen, lips pursed in an adorable astonishment.

It was a conscious effort to not shy away from the size. You couldn't believe your luck, as you took it in your hand to assert that you were not intimidated.

His chuckling interrupted your awed stare.

"Too much?"

A quick head shake, but you weren't convincing enough to his heedful mind.

Another slow, studied kiss between one another. He was holding you still by the side of your face and the back of your head, quieting every worry in your brain.

"We'll take things slow," He reassured you.

Though you were certain nothing on your face expressed concern, his promise stood as a reminder that you could stay calm, because he was safe.

You settled next to him, propped onto your elbow for the most comfortable angle you could get.

Huge, but safe.

The way his stomach tapered down into his hips had you staring and rubbing all around his dick, just curious to touch every inch of him.

A dark, pulsing head was already leaking a bit of precum. You pumped him once, real slow, and let the clear drip onto your tongue.

Salty, yeah, but not much burn to it. You licked the rest of it off of the slit.

He gave a strangled curse and you earned a big hand brushing through your roots.

"Mm..." You sucked a sloppy kiss to the head with a chuckle at his twitching in your mouth.

You stuck your tongue out past your bottom lip and bobbed down. His head fell back onto the blankets and his fingers flexed in your hair.

"Ooh, fu-ck," Was a pretty sound above you.

He was too big for you to take all of him, but he sounded completely satisfied with what you were comfortable doing.

With a slight bend in his knee, he was able to turn his hips slightly towards you. His firm hand in your hair guided you to a rhythm and depth he preferred.

"A-ahh--Fuck, baby that's s-o good..."

You never realized before, but it made it so much easier on your neck and shoulders-- not to mention the fact you didn't have to think anymore.

It helped you relax.

His muttered praise was just the cherry on top. Your thighs squeezed at how good he made you feel for just letting him take your mouth.

He lingered right at that threshold between too difficult and too easy for you, and let up as soon as you gave him some resistance to judge you by.

There wasn't a better person you could've chosen to trust with your body. His tendency to play it safe turned you on because it let you run wild without worry that he'd take advantage of it.

He was so gentle, yet firm- you wanted to discover what you could do with him.

"Fuuck, ah- good girl," He groaned at your ability to take him so well, a shocked, pleasure-soaked chuckle as he was able to fuck deeper into your throat.

You felt pliable and empty when he pulled you up by your roots. It was brand-new and a rehash of everything you wanted from him all at once.

He had a hungry admiration in his eyes for you.

Your hands flew up to tangle in his long hair in a passionate, rushed kiss.

Soft, kissy missionary or the roughest backshots his strength would allow-- you wanted anything, everything, as long as it was with him.

You wanted to be his.

He sucked the spit off of your lips and chin- the rest came off on your shirt, swiped away and forgotten onto the floor.

He readjusted to slide his pants off, yet chose to keep his briefs on. When he pushed you back onto the mattress, it was smooth and skilled, like he'd been planning exactly how he wanted to hold you.

Big, rough palms scoured your body, scratching and squeezing in all the right places to make you jump and squirm against him while he kept you occupied with his mouth.

"I'd love to return the favor," He chuckled against the shell of your ear when you wiggled away from his gentle pinch to your breast.

Your sensitivity motivated him to take his weight off of you.

You gasped at the chance to breathe with ease again. He trailed slow, wet kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and stilled at your exposed chest.

Even when he wasn't doing anything, he felt so good on top of you. You pushed out your chest for him and locked your legs around his waist, a silent beg for him to keep going.

The act stirred another question, muttered between increasingly rough stimulation on your sensitive skin.

"Why me?"

You kept your hand over your mouth to keep some higher tones quiet. Your heartbeat was pounding between your legs-- why was he so humble?

"You're-- mn-! so hot," You admitted. It sure was simple, but it was effective.

It made him blush and laugh a little against your tits, so you kept going, "You ever just, God, ah- know that you need somebody?"

It looked like he didn't really get it, but he was plenty flattered, and that was more than enough.

"Well," He smiled and pushed himself up to sit between your legs. He let his hair fall onto his shoulders so he could re-tie it, "I hope I make it worth your while."

How could he say it like that? You couldn't tear your eyes away from his flexed arms, reaching up for nimble, veiny fingers to comb through his gorgeous locks.

You finally understood it. His self-esteem was testy at best.

"You already have," You admitted.

With the new knowledge that he could be a bit shy, you slid your panties off for him with a coquettish smile.

A sort of challenge, a sort of invitation, when you spread your legs for him again.

He loved your flirty nature. You had this 'Come and get me, big guy' attitude that he couldn't ignore or back down from. In a way, it gave him the confidence he always wanted. Plus, it got him super hard.

A moment to drink up the sight of you completely nude for him.

His hands were rubbing, spreading your thighs open as he settled between them.

He could've been just-alright and it would've been enough for you. Just his breath was setting your nerves on fire. But, like everything else so far, it wasn't mediocrity that defined him.

His lids were low as he got a good look at what he was working with. He pushed your legs far and split you open in spite of -or perhaps because of- your bashful writhing.

A slow, hot kiss against your sex shut down your attempts to get in his way.

Scratching nails turned a bit sweeter, more trembly against his scalp.

A light touch was all you needed, and it was exactly what he offered; his tongue traced every bit of your already longing cunt before taking a feather-light approach to your clit.

"Oh, fuc-k," You whined, having not anticipated how quickly he'd work you up.

There was usually a learning curve to this.

You could see in his eyes that he was smiling, or that he at least found your surprise amusing.

This gentle, sweet method inspired your squirming again, but he kept you in place with heavy arms around your hips.

He kept you so still that his grip was making your muscles ache underneath him. It was a subtle, sweet mix of pain and pleasure that you craved.

"Does that feel good, baby?" His tongue dipped down, a pressure against your soaking wet, tragically still empty, hole.

He knew you couldn't reply.

"Can't wait to fuck you," He mumbled, words buzzing on you.

You were being good about staying quiet under your hand before his admission. But it seemed that you forgot your precarious situation as soon as the man was back to tonguing your clit, edging you much too close to orgasm.

"A-ah-!" You slapped a helpless hand onto his arm and threw your head back onto your pillow, "Asahi-,"

Your unrestrained sounds only encouraged him to keep going.

The sight of you coming completely undone, arching at his touch, calling his name like that, despite not knowing a damn thing about him-- he was starting to understand what you meant by needing somebody.

The tension in your tummy was starting to crest high and quick.

"I'm so close- no," You whined, scratching at him.

You couldn't push away from his grasp, nor escape his dogmatic tongue to relieve your overstimulated clit.

"No-o plea-se, I-want you," Your pleading was finally granted his attention.

He finally stilled and pressed a thoughtful kiss to the inside of your twitchy thigh. The desperation in your voice took his breath away.

Just when he thought you couldn't get any cuter, you pull a move like this.

Who was he to deny you the chance to cum around his cock?

"Damn," He grumbled.

You flinched at his last, longing kiss to your pussy.

He settled next to you and became subject to some fast, light kisses to the side of his face while he finally removed the last of his clothes. You were so happy that he listened to you and that he was pulling out his dick again.

"Yesss!" You giggled and climbed on top of him before he could even straighten back out.

"God," He choked.

Your hips rocked back and forth on top of his strained cock- you were so wet for him, so eager, he couldn't help but compulsively buck against you, too.

His slick, pulsing cock slipped between your folds and bumped against your clit with every slow, strong thrust.

Hands stretched over your ass, he brought you back and forth exactly the way he wanted.

He was using you like a little toy.

You leaned down to your elbows, lips brushing his, and moaned to egg him on, "You feel soo good."

"D'you wanna fuck me?" You bit his lip, testing his patience, his temperament, with a blissed-out look in your eyes.

One set of nails buried into your curves, the other was grabbing the back of your neck to shut you up.

A deep groan surfaced past his lips and onto yours. His low-lidded stare was so intimidating, it made your thighs clench around him.

"Fuck-," He moaned, remembering he would need to stand up to go grab a condom, "My pants are so far away."

He laughed at how badly his cock hurt, hands now trying to still the addictive motion, "I gotta-"

You pried his fingers from you and sat up so you could keep going.

"Mm-mm, I've got some..."

A vague motion to the side of the bed. You leaned your head back at the friction and hoped he was watching you.

That was shockingly attractive of you to just have condoms. He looked to the dresser you pointed to with a raised brow, then closed his fist at the sight of your pretty body getting off on him.

"Alright," He groaned, "Watch it."

The room spun for a moment.

You were suddenly on your back, jaw slack at how he just picked you up and set you down so easily.

It was only disappointing for a moment, because you loved how he could throw you around, and his disgruntled, yet soft instruction.

You gave a shuddery, "Oka-y," through a big, excited grin.

He was leaning to sift through the contents of the drawer, on a search of a large amongst a handful of regulars, when he saw your phone light up at his presence.

"Looks like your mom texted you, by the way," He passed you the device without a further thought.

Finally one for his size in hand, he got back down and started to open it.

You frowned.

7:30 p.m: Make sure you take Maru out before it gets too dark.

9:00 p.m: take maru out. im on the game

A frantic look to the window. How long had it been dark for?

He sat straight up, "Woah, what's wrong?"

Breathless, you informed him, "I was supposed to take the dog out like, 2 hours ago."

His relief at the news was one-sided. For all he knew, a text from your mom could've been much worse. He didn't understand the trouble here.

"Wouldn't your-," He hesitated to bring up Tetsuro in this fragile environment, but had to, "Your brother just do it?"

You snorted. He never did anything that he could just put on you, especially chores that were specifically meant for you.

There was the idea to text and ask if he had done it already, but if he was still occupied, he wouldn't reply, and if he wasn't doing anything, there was the chance he would come up here and bother you until you did it yourself.

You shook your head and slinked off of the bed, despite every fiber of your being telling you to do otherwise.

"I'm surprised he hasn't knocked, yet," You shivered at the new cold and gave a nervous glance to your fortified door.

You looked divine, standing against the dim light that escaped through your blinds. Like a liquid silver painting, just for him.

Asahi grabbed a pillow to cover himself with and sat on the edge of the bed so he could put his hands on you.

He pulled you into a starved, rough kiss that you had to be gently pushed away from.

"Hurry back."

taglist.

ty for supporting!!!! i love writing this. reply to be added to taglist for next(likely last) part!

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere

@kreishin

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masterlist. requests open!

[mindmelter]

Five Alien Hosts: Adventures In Italy (Part 2) - Not Alone

( 1 Year ago )

It was finally the night of the Comet Clyde, a significant event for the entire world. Everyone was looking up to the sky to contemplate the beauty of the comet, but not Victor. Victor was watching gay porn in his room, he couldn't care less about the Comet, who cares about watching a once-in-a-lifetime event, if you can watch hot men fucking instead? That's what he thought until a loud explosion came from his backyard, breaking every single window in his house.

Scared, Victor ran to see what was the cause of the explosion. When he arrived in his backyard, he stopped mid-track. There was a meteorite shaped like an egg in his backyard.

Victor slowly walked towards the egg-shaped meteorite. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Victor looked up to the sky. "It must have come from the comet," he thought. Suddenly, he heard a weird cracking noise coming from inside the egg. Victor had watched enough sci-fi movies to know there was only one explanation for that: aliens. But he just wasn't expecting what came out of the egg.

"What the..." Victor screamed and fell down in fear.

One black bug crawled out of one of the holes, then a second one, a third, a fourth, and for last, a fifth.

Victor was scared, but the bugs didn't attack him, they just stopped in front of him. Victor calmed down and slowly stretched out his hand, but before he could touch them, the bugs quickly crawled back inside the egg.

The next morning, Victor was eating breakfast while watching the news. The news — as it had been since the beginning of the year — was talking about Comet Clyde and its brief passing the night before.

"Last night, we witnessed the final passage of Comet Clyde. Although the comet was far from Earth, it still sent meteorites raining down across the globe. The countries that are confirmed to have been hit by meteorites are the United States, Italy, and Spain. It is theorized that the largest meteorite fell in Spain. No casualties have been reported. The American army is now confis-"

Victor turned off the TV and stared at the egg-shaped meteorite that he placed on his dining table. The bugs hadn't come out since the night before. He tried to feed them by putting some bread in front of the egg, but none came out. Maybe alien insects feed on something different, but what? Victor asked himself, he hoped they wouldn't feed on humans.

Suddenly he heard a loud knock on the door. When he opened it, he saw four male soldiers.

"H-hi, can I help with something?" Victor asked.

"Good morning, you're Victor Sanchez, correct?" A very good looking soldier asked. Victor nodded.

"Yes, that would be me."

"I am Sergeant Ramirez. Last night we received a report from your neighbors about an explosion coming from your house."

Victor gulped, his heart was racing, but he tried to remain calm. "An explosion? I didn't hear anything last night, s-sir."

The soldiers looked suspicious at Victor, he was never a great liar.

"Can we come in for a second?"

Victor nodded and allowed the soldiers to walk inside his house.

"Could someone explain to me exactly what's happening here?" Victor asked as the soldiers began searching his house.

"Last night, this part of the city was struck by debris from Comet Clyde. The government has ordered the Army to collect and hand over every meteorite found. It's a matter of public safety."

"Well, if a meteorite crashed in my house, I would know it, right?" Victor said in a joking manner, but inside he was very nervous.

"Yes, I guess you would..." Sergeant Ramirez then noticed the broken windows. "What happened to the windows?"

"I... I don't-"

"Sergeant, I think you'll want to check this out," another one of the soldiers said, pointing at the meteorite on the table. Victor cursed at himself; he forgot to hide the damn egg. Sergeant Ramirez raised an eyebrow and looked at Victor.

"Oooh... umm, this? This is just a house d-decoration! Please don't touch it, It's very expensive!" Victor said rushing to the table and grabbing the egg.

"The Captain said something about an egg-shaped debris, didn't he?" Another soldier pointed out.

"He did." Ramirez responded, walking towards Victor, "Sorry, we will have to confiscate this."

"No! You can't!" Victor shouted, hugging the egg tighter, he couldn't let them take it, the things they would do to those poor bugs... Victor would never forgive himself.

"We are not asking, we got orders to follow. The government's gonna compensate you for this. So, either you cooperate or we'll have to take you in."

Victor got angry and in a quick decision, he threw the egg to the floor, breaking it in half. Four bugs immediately crawled out of the broken egg and went toward the soldiers, the tiny bugs were so fast that the soldiers didn't even have time to react. One soldier attempted to reach for his gun, but before he could aim it at the bug, it swiftly crawled under his uniform pants and headed toward his head. Each bug targeted a soldier and forced its way into their ears.

The four soldiers collapsed to the floor, and one by one, they began convulsing with their eyes rolling back to white. Suddenly, all four soldiers stood up with blank faces and empty eyes, Sergeant Ramirez pulled his pants down and started to jerk off, while the other three soldiers kneeled in front of him. Victor watched as Sergeant Ramirez jerked his big shaft right on his colleagues' blank faces.

"What is happening here?" Victor asked, but Ramirez just continued mindlessly jerking off.

Soon he started to cum and the three kneeling soldiers started to eagerly lick every drop. It looked like the bugs were consuming it. So that's what the bugs feed on, Victor thought. Sergeant Ramirez remained motionless during the entire time, with his hard dick pointing up, still pulsing and dripping cum. Sergeant Ramirez then looked at Victor with his dead eyes. "Follow him." He said, pointing to the broken egg on the floor.

Victor then noticed there was still one bug left inside the egg—the fifth bug. Victor was scared that the remaining bug would do to him what the others did with the soldiers, but the bug just crawled out of the egg and went towards the door. Victor followed the bug outside until he saw the bug crawl inside the military armored vehicle that was parked in front of his house. The bug easily crawled under the car and disappeared.

A few seconds later Victor started to hear some male grunting and weird sounds coming from inside the car, and suddenly, the vehicle's door opened. Inside was the Captain of the operation: A very hot, muscular, and intimidating man.

"Get in." The man commanded, he had such a deep voice that Victor obeyed without thinking twice.

"Hello, Victor. It's good to finally be able to communicate with you." The man said.

"I know you're the bug controlling this man, but..." Victor looked at the man's huge tattooed arm, he could tear Victor in half with those arms. "is this safe?"

"I'm in control of this human now. The changes that I made in his brain are irreversible, you don't have to fear him anymore. He's my host now."

"Your host?? What happened to the real him?"

"He was gone the moment I pierced my way inside his brain. Let's put it that way: I turned him into my vehicle and I'm the only one who can drive him."

"Ok, so I'm safe from him but... Am I safe from you?"

"Yes. We didn't crash into your backyard by accident, you have been chosen by us to be our Master. We felt your energy from afar and from all the humans in this city, your desire for control was the strongest of all. We knew you wouldn't find a problem in letting us take over your kind, so we directed the egg to you."

Victor remembered he was watching gay porn when the egg crashed in his backyard, could it be related? Was his desire for the men in the porn the reason that attracted the bugs to him? He had so many questions.

"You need control and we need a controller. You're special because you don't care about them, in fact, you get aroused by it," The Captain smirked and caressed Victor's hard tent. Victor nervously laughed.

"Does this host arouse you?" The Captain flexed both his arms. Victor shyly nodded. The alien-controlled Captain placed his big hand behind Victor's head and pulled him for a rough kiss. They shared a long passionate kiss, with the Captain's big tongue dominating the kiss the entire time. Victor then started to feel the Captain's grip on his neck getting tighter. The Captain stopped the kiss while maintaining a tight grip, he smirked at Victor and said "You will be the perfect Master for us." He then spat on Victor's face and released him, leaving Victor speechless.

"Oh c'mon, I know you like it. Let's get inside, I will properly introduce you to my brothers."

Victor followed the Captain back inside his house. The four soldiers were now casually talking to each other with their deflated dicks hanging out of their flies. When they saw Victor, they dropped to their knees. "We are here to serve you. Master." They all said in unison. Victor looked at the four soldiers kneeling in his living room, they all had their tongues hanging out for some reason.

The Captain suddenly pulled down his pants and started to casually jerk off his huge shaft. Victor was amazed by the size of it. The Captain walked towards one of the soldiers and aimed the tip of the shaft at the soldier's mouth, but before shoving it inside, he looked at Victor with his empty blank eyes.

"My brothers are still hungry, will you help me feed them? I don't think this host has enough to feed them all."

Victor grinned and walked towards Sergeant Ramirez.

"Feed me, Master," he begged.

Victor didn't like the way Ramirez talked to him earlier and how he tried to take the egg from him, Victor would enjoy this part very much. Ramirez took his entire length into his throat like an expert. Victor moaned loudly and grabbed each side of Ramirez's head as he started to get hough. He looked to his side and saw the Captain doing the same with another soldier. Victor couldn't hold it any longer and started to shoot.

__________________________________

( Present Days )

Victor woke up with a warm mouth wrapping around his member, he pulled the covers to reveal Grus's bodybuilder host under the sheets with his entire length inside his mouth. The bodybuilder stopped sucking and gave him a sexy smile.

"Good morning, Master," He said, giving the shaft a few kisses.

"Good morning... Grus." Victor moaned. "You know how to wake me up appropriately. After last night, you must be starving. Here, take your reward." Victor said, grabbing the bodybuilder by the hair and starting to thrust deeper into his throat. Victor moaned louder and finally gave Grus's what he wanted, filling the host's mouth with his cum. But the bodybuilder didn't swallow, he suddenly froze and his eyes rolled back as Grus crawled out of his brain and to his mouth, consuming the small pool of cum inside. As Victor waited for Grus to eat, he noticed that Alexander (Sylo's host) was not in the room with them.

The night before, Sylo had called Grus to Victor's room. They spent the night having fun with each other. Victor jerked off while he watched Alexander fuck the bodybuilder, who was on all fours moaning like a slut. Victor loved seeing two brainless hunks fucking each other right in front of him, it was like watching gay porn but now he could participate. Soon Victor was being spit-roasted with the bodybuilder's thick brown cock inside his mouth and Alexander's huge cock filling his ass. He passed out after he came.

"Where is Sylo?" Victor asked.

Grus had now crawled back inside the bodybuilder's brain and walked to the window.

"Sylo is sunbathing outside. He said Alexander would look good with a tan."

"And you? Do you have plans for..." Victor stopped talking, as he came to realize he didn't knew Grus's host name. "I just realized that I never asked your host's name, how is he called?"

"I'm offended Master," Grus joked. "His name is Ahmed."

"I'm sorry," Victor laughed. "It's hard to memorize all of their names, I don't care about their names or who they used to be, I only care about their bodies. Usually, I like to refer to them by their profession, like the mailman, the delivery man, the bodybuilder..."

"Yet you know Sylo's host name, you don't call him 'The CEO' you call him by Alexander. Is my host not hot enough for you, Master?" He asked, doing a double biceps pose.

"Don't be like that, I love your host very much. Didn't I already prove it to you last night?"

"I don't believe you, I think you like Sylo's host better. You don't appreciate me enough, I should go find another gay slut to give this body the attention it deserves." Grus joked, making Ahmed flex again for Victor.

"You're acting just like Yinx, yesterday he was all jealous that I was sharing a room with Sylo."

They shared a laugh.

"I'm going to shower him, Master, Ahmed is all sticky from last night, do you want to join? I will let you wash my body with your tongue, It's been a while since you gave one of my hosts a tongue bath."

"Maybe some other time. I will go check on Sylo." Victor then kissed Ahmed, but their kiss was suddenly interrupted by Ahmed's phone ringing.

"Who's that?" Victor asked.

"It's Ahmed's younger brother, he just won't stop calling. I think we should do something about it, Master."

Victor grabbed the phone and declined the call.

"New rule: Don't worry about your host's business, just enjoy your vacation as Ahmed. Ok?"

He nodded.

"You promise?"

"I do, Master."

They shared another kiss and then Ahmed went to take a shower while Victor went to put some clothes on.

Victor walked outside to Alexander sunbathing in the private area of the Hotel. It was an exclusive area that only Victor, Alexander, and the other hosts could access, so it was a very private place.

Alexander glanced at Victor.

"What are you staring at? You pervert." Alexander said.

"Good morning to you too, Sylo."

"Sylo? Who the fuck is that? You know what? I could use a fag like you. No one is watching, come here and clean my sweat with your tongue."

Victor sat on Alexander's lap, facing him, and gently caressed Alexander's arms, feeling the hard-earned muscles that Alexander was once so proud of. Those muscles were not built for him to grope, Alexander built them for women, but now they were for Victor, just for him and nobody else. Victor then leaned over and started to lick the sweaty biceps, especially the armpits, they had a strong musk.

"Sylo, you need to wash Alexander's body. He's smelling really strong. When was the last time you washed him?"

"Stop calling me that and go back to work!" Alexander grunted as he shoved Victor's face back into his armpit.

"Good boy, clean me up. These muscles won't clean by themselves." Alexander purred. Victor nodded and buried his face deeper into Alexander's pits, lapping at them like a thirsty dog.

"That's it, smell it, taste it, It's all for you."

While Victor was busy lapping at the muscles, Alexander pulled down his shorts and then ripped off Victor's shorts. Victor was impressed by how strong Alexander was. With his other hand, Alexander pressed the tip of his shaft into Victor's entrance. Victor grunted in pain, he was still sore from the night before.

"Take your time, Master. I know he's too big for you," Sylo broke character for the first time to make sure Victor was okay. It wasn't Victor's first time with Alexander, but it was their third, and Victor was still not used to the size. Victor's heart raced as he looked into Alexander's eyes, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, Alexander," he whispered. "I want you inside me." Alexander smiled and lowered him down onto his waiting cock, Victor was feeling the heat and length of the shaft stretching him impossibly wide. He gasped at the sensation and then began to move, slowly at first, but gaining momentum as they became lost in the rhythm of their bodies, soon Alexander was filling Victor's ass with his cum.

"Fuck, he has one of the biggest cock of all the hosts you guys made."

"Even bigger than Quin's host?" Alexander smirked.

Victor suddenly noticed a shadow over him, he looked up and saw Andrei — Quin's footballer host.

"Definitely not as big as mine." Andrei said.

"Oh hey Quin, you scared me for a second." Victor laughed, looking up at the handsome footballer. "What are you doing here?"

"You know, usually, I would have breakfast with Grus, but he didn't sleep in our room yesterday, he was too busy getting fucked by you two."

"Sorry, Quin, I just shot Alexander's load into Victor's ass, wish I had enough to feed you," Alexander said.

"It's ok brother, don't worry."

Victor then had an idea. "Grus is taking a shower right now. I fed him this morning, but he didn't shoot. Ahmed's balls are still very much full. Let's get inside."

Victor couldn't stand because his ass was hurting, so Andrei helped him by carrying him on his arms to his room.

Unknown to Victor and the bugs, they were not alone. A man was hidden nearby, taking photos of them. The man had a devilish smile as he looked at the photos he took. In one photo Victor was getting fucked by Alexander, in another, Andrei was carrying him in his arms. "Master is going to love this." The man said to himself.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie hated this and he'd just started.

See, he was so proud when he made it, when he got his first office job. He saw what decades of physical labor did to Wayne's back, his hands, and he wanted to make his uncle proud. So he kept applying and applying and getting ignored and rejected and finally, finally he got a job in a pretty large corporate. Not exactly something prestigious, but hey, it had potential. The experience counted and all that.

He thought maybe workplaces would be different, that the good ol' high school dynamic would fuck off, but no. He was sitting at his desk, trying to fill in paperwork after a taxing phone call, but all he could focus on was whispering from the neighboring cubicle that was ostentatiously loud. He didn't know who sat there yet, the guy had been on vacation for the two weeks Eddie was in the company. From the stuff he was hearing, he was getting introduced anyway and not exactly the way he'd have liked to be.

"Can you believe they actually let him work here?" It was Carol, of course it was, the office gossip and mean girl knockoff. "I mean, he doesn't even look decent! Did you see that hair?" Okay, that hurt. He actually pulled his hair into a neat bun every morning, but you can't please some people. "And he has tattoos, what would our customers think if they actually met him, plus you should have heard the rumors about his past-!"

But just as he was about to slam down the pile of paperwork and either take an extended smoke break or gently ask Carol to go fuck a polar bear, he heard another voice. Bored and wonderfully bitchy.

"That's absolutely fascinating, Carol. Please tell me more, what could this guy possibly have done? It must be something juicy. Did he perhaps fuck his boss during the Christmas party and then lie about it to his boyfriend of five years? Oh wait no. That was you. Silly me."

Eddie had to bite his pencil to stay quiet, but his whole chest hurt by trying to keep the snickering in. And then the offended gasp. "I- you promised you wouldn't-!"

"I didn't promise shit, Carol. You just came to me, cried your eyes out - bad move by the way, invest in some waterproof mascara for god's sake, mascara in wrinkles doesn't good on anyone, and yes, you do have wrinkles - and tried to play the victim. Except I heard your small proposition to the guy before so it didn't really work out. But it's fine, you know," and oooh, the tone was smug, so bored, Eddie loved this guy already, "Tommy saw you as well and had a good time with Nicole to get even. So there's nothing to worry about. Now tell me, what did this horrible Eddie Munson do to summon wrath of such a righteous woman such as yourself?"

Eddie heard a sharp sound as Carol got up from the desk. "Fuck you, Steve Harrington," she spat out and sped past Eddie's seat. He just gave her a small salute.

When the sound of high heels faded, Eddie leaned over the cubicle wall and knocked to draw the guy's attention. And yeah, maybe he was a little bit biased because he'd just obliterated a textbook definition of a shrew, but this Steve was fucking gorgeous, light brown eyes looking at him, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh hi," said Steve and offered his hand, shaking Eddie's. "Sorry for that. I'm Steve Harrington and whatever deepest, darkest secrets you're hiding, I don't care, I'm pretty sure I've heard them all. What did you do? Shave your head in school? Join a cult? Cut dolls apart and chant hail Satan?"

That had Eddie laughing again, but he still had an introduction to make. A proper one. "Nice to meet you, Steve. Eddie Munson, and I'm worse than your darkest nightmares. I sometimes wear socks in sandals."

Steve's eyebrow twitched. "Oh, Carol was right, you are a monster!" he muttered. "Speaking of monsters..." His head leaned to the side, towards Carol who was angrily carrying her coffee mug, her mascara running again.

Before he could catch himself, Eddie leaned over the wall and whispered as loudly as he could muster. "Can you believe some people wear dotted dresses with stripes on their stockings? We can't all be born with taste, I guess...tragic."

And again, maybe Eddie was just biased, but Steve's laughter was so pretty that it actually made dealing with Carol's bullshit worth it.

[ariaste]

so i'm reading Interview With the Vampire for the first time in twenty years and this shit is SO FUCKING FUNNY like. god.

like there you are, being louis, having your beautiful elegant grief over the death of your brother and this random vampire partially eats you on your doorstep one night and then rocks up the next night pretending to be a Really Cool Elegant Suave Guy like "bonjouuuuur do u want to be a vampire [drapes self elegantly all over the room] i could do that for you" and then you're like "wow okay [privately noticing all the hot things about him]" and then he makes you a vampire and you're like "wow he is holding me like a lover and i have some unspecified Feelings about it, he is radiant, he is so beautiful, golly" and then to everyone's disappointment but particularly yours, this allegedly cool suave elegant vampire proceeds to immediately drop the act and reveal that he is the least cool person who has genuinely ever existed, in fact he is absolutely intolerable and a Whole Ass Moron, and all you can do is stare in incredulity and mounting contempt as he blithely installs his REAL DAD in your house without asking or even communicating in advance that he HAD a dad (you are bewildered to discover that vampires have dads or at least this weirdo does for some reason???), and starts spending your money like he's the sugar baby in this situation (and to your horror you realize that he IS ACTUALLY THE SUGAR BABY IN THIS SITUATION, HOW DID HE CON YOU INTO THIS) and you're immediately like "fuck fuck fuck fuck i've made a huge mistake" and start keeping an eye out for any local vampire divorce lawyers and making a mental note of every single wrong he commits so that a couple centuries later you can bitch about them to a random reporter you just met like

oh the bitching, oh the sass. "had he any native intelligence" i'm crying. "characteristic lack of common sense" not even the common sense god gave a gnat, yeah wow ur right. "i was tempted to say 'yes you are', but I didn't" YOU SHOULD HAVE, BABE, YOU WERE JUSTIFIED god the moral high ground here is two inches high

And then there's this whole tangent about "yeah and then after a while Lestat got this fang-crush on this random neighbor boy -- you know, like when you see a random neighbor boy and you reeaaaaaally want to eat him?? anyway i told him not to eat the neighbor boy, including physically wrestling him in the rain to keep him from pouncing on the neighbor boy while the neighbor boy was having a little rapier duel with someone, but lestat was wily and slippery and uh well that was it for the neighbor boy" like god lestat is so fucking stupid (affectionate), he's LITERALLY going around louis' house like ":) wow you have nice plates. and glasses! I miss glasses. wait i know I'LL PUT A RAT IN THE GLASS [hunts around in the grass for a rat while Louis watches in bewilderment from the window] [gets a rat] [pours the rat into the glass] [elegant sip] [complains that it gets cold too fast] [inexplicably smashes the glass when he's done with it?????? for vibes i guess?????]" the exasperation. the outrage. this is not what Louis signed up for. he thought HE was going to be the sugar baby. he thought he was getting swept off his feet and Romanced and shit. where is the hot vampire who was like "oooh louis let's be together forever" and why has he been replaced with this blond moron in his house, breaking his THINGS, having a dad who he yells at???? and being very polite to guests actually

like. pals Lestat was the original cringefail emo poser boyfriend and none of us deserve to stand in his presence. Louis is so embarrassed to have ever associated with him. this book is a comedy.

tbh tho raise a glass for lestat tho who wiggled his lil self into New Orleans like "step one, find sugar daddy to keep track of my money :))))) and marry him" like yeah he's embarrassing to know but to his credit the man DOES know how to invent and execute a plan with impressive efficiency while vastly outmaneuvering anyone with allegedly more common sense, so who's the real moron in this situation, hm???

[blkkizzat]

ahem.

doppelganger! toji.

doppelganger! toji who slowly bottoms out into you, looking at the headboard with shaky breaths as he ruts into you quick and unforgiving. His fingers bruise your sides as he lifts you up, hitting that one spot juust right so that your tight, warm cunt squeezes around him.

doppelganger! toji letting out grunts and moans only when you're screaming so he doesn't have to hold it in any longer. He quickens the pace, fingers nimbly rubbing and pulling at your clit with a small huff. He was close, but he wanted you to be closer.

doppelganger! toji who decides to throw your legs over his shoulders and completely destroy that poor sopping cunt of yours. It's so loud, and way too lewd for him to be craving more. He could see your combined juices run down the curve of his muscular thighs as well as your plush ones.

doppelganger! toji who squeezes your thighs with slight trembling hands, not used to the tight fluttering hole around his fairly new cock.

doppelganger! toji lets out an inhumane growl as he cums inside you, painting your walls white. He doesn't stop. He can't. This feeling, it's too addicting, too right.

doppelganger! toji kisses you roughly and slips his seemingly larger and thicker tongue into your mouth, pulling back only when you tense from the lack of air. A few minutes later, he's got you on your stomach.

doppelganger! toji who presses your face into the pillow softly as he stares at the closet, no doubt where the real toji was being stored. "That's it, sweet girl. Cum for me." He grips your hips tighter and pounds into you with recklessness.

doppelganger! toji that trails his hand down the curve of your spine before harshly slapping your ass, with a smirk.

doppelganger! toji who has decided you're his now. He was still hard, but you were so overstimulated that you found it hard to speak. He'll keep you like this.

After all, if you loved the real toji, why wouldn't you love him?

ahem.

:)

peace. <3

OMFFJNSJDFHVSKDJHBV

LMFAOOO OMFG NOT THE DOPPLEGANGER KEEPING REAL TOJI IN THE CLOSET!!!

can we share me? like i want boffum. double the trouble.

waiiit also how did he get in??

did we not recognize toji and let the fake in?? LOL

oooh tysm for dropping this gem in my inbox babydoll. id add on to it but saving the doppleganger goodies for my "thats not my neighbor jjk man" fic debut.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - The Gala

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, blowjobs, possessiveness, jealousy, oral, p in v, semi-pibloc sex,

Side note: can y'all tell I've never been to a Gala before? I don't know how they donate in those things. Please bare with me.

The perp screamed as Damian flipped him onto the ground, making sure the way he landed would be impactful enough to knock him out for at least a minute.

"Fuck! You fucking brat!" The perp chocked out.

Squatting next to him, Damian flipped his staff to rest it against his shoulder blades, hanging both his arms on it. "You see the rest of your crew over there?" He nodded in the direction of four bodies lying down on the floor of the warehouse, then looked back at the perp currently struggling to take a breath. "Not big talkers, apparently. But you -" he grabbed the man by his collar and dragged him towards himself, the perp yelped, blood dripping from his nose as he struggled against Damian's unyielding grip. "You might still make it out of here alive." He finished.

The perp eyed his men nervously, stammering. "D-did you kill them?"

Damian ignored the question. "I'm gonna ask you one last time, Markus. Where is Roman's shipment arriving to?"

The man's eyes widened at the correct use of his name, and he began to shake.

Damian registered a new stench, his upper lip lifted in digust as he stared down a Marcus. "You better not have fucking pissed yourself. That's disgusting."

Marcus looked like he was about to cry. Damian would bet they were tears of shame rather than pain. He grasped the collar tighter, sneering. "Where did the shipment leave to, Marc? While I'm still in a good mood."

"Y-you fucking psycho!" Marcus was crying now. "Do you have any idea what he'll do to me if I tell you?"

"It can't be worse than what I'll do to you if you don't." Damian said before punching the crying man in the nose, making sure to crack something. Marcus cried out in pain.

"Talk." Damian prompted.

Bloody lips trembling, Marcus confessed the address.

Damian nodded, sure to memorize the location. "What time is it coming in?" He asked.

Marcus's features twisted pathetically as he slurred, "Come on, man. I already told you-"

"What time is it coming in?" Damian sneered. Hating to have to repeat himself.

"E-eleven-Thirty!" The criminam cried. "Pick up's at midnight."

Damian stood up then, kicking Marcus right in the nose, making sure to knock him out this time.

"Jesus christ, kid." Jason spoke in his ear. "Remind me to play bats this footage if ever gives me shit about how I do interrogations."

"That won't stop me from giving you shit." Batman's voice came on the line.

Withholding a retort about Jason calling him "kid." All Damian said was, "it's not like I killed him."

"Right, no, of course." The red hood laughed in his comm. "You just re-organized the order his face, much more merciful."

"Ugh, been on the receiving end of that." Dick's voice joined the line. "Now look at oir baby boy, all grown up and graduated from scratching to dislocation."

"Aww." Barbara's voice supplied helpfully.

Damian rolled his eyes. "I was dislocating men twice my size back when you were still running around in a leotard."

He was so grateful he got to work on his own suit, with a fabric that wasn't skin fucking tight had at fully covered him in bulletproof Kevlar yet still allowed for a full range of motion. If he were forced to wear the same suit as his eldest brother, Batman would have been his first victim.

"Oooh there are those claws!" Tim now joined the line, along with Stephanie, who supplied the helpful words: "scratchy scratchy" in the background.

Clearly, his family was having a much less fun night that he and were desperate for some entertainment. Ignoring them, Damian climbed up from the warehouse and onto the roof of a neighboring, taller building to get a better vantage point. The wind ruffled his hair as the sounds of gotham: sirens, choppers, and car horns, as well as the waves from the nearby river filled his ears. Inhaling the cool air and exhaling, the fog from his mouth traveling with the wind. He switched onto a different line. "Oracle, I need coordinates to the Conrad docks port hanger number 9."

"Roger that, Robin. Shall I send for back up?"

"No need." He said. "I can't handle this myself."

And he did. Carrying out a perfect stealth mission and stealing a crate of the new drug that Black Mask was trying to push on the city, along with the files that exposed every crooken cop currently on his payroll. The files found their way to commissioner Gordon's coffee table that night. The corrupt cops were behind bars by morning.

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Damian didn't know how to explain, but he was having a particularly good day. That is, until he heard your name being said by one of the guys from your program.

"There she is. What was her name again?"

"Y/n, I think?" The boy, a skinny eng student from your physics class, was talking to his friend.

Damian followed his gaze to you, sitting by yourself in a yellow checkered blazer and skinny jeans, with a neat ponytail tide by a yellow ribbon. You were sitting on one of the benches at the campus atrium, chewing on a cut-up apple as you read something on your computer, the screen illuminating your face.

"I got two tickets for the howling mystery this Thursday. I'm gonna ask her to go with me."

Like hell. Damian's nostrils flared, and he turned to walk in their direction.

Just as his friend replied sardonically. "She doesn't hit me as the type that listens to hard metal -"

"Hey," they both turned at the sound of Damian's voice. The boy who talked about asking you out straightening up. Unimpressed, Damian trampled him in size. "How are you guys doing?" He asked casually.

"Fine, thanks." The friend replied, looking at Damian in disbelief that he was used to by now. "You?"

"Listen, were you guys just in Atkinson's lecture?" He pointed his thumb in the direction of the room behind himself.

The two guys nodded.

"He's in there right now explaining the Pokhozhaev identity problem that was on the midterm." Damian lied.

Their eyes widened. And one of them asked. "Fuck really?"

Damian nodded. "Yeah. If you hurry, maybe you could still catch him."

"Dude, thanks!" One of them clapped him on the back, and Damian offered them one his signature easygoing smiles as they went down the hall and back into the lecture, none the wiser.

He himself made his way to sit beside you, leaning back on the bench. "Hey,"

You looked up at him, eyes widening when you realized it's him. You quickly collected yourself, offering a poline smile. "Damian, hi."

"What are you doing this Thursday?" He asked.

You thought about it for a moment, checked your calendar to see that your midterms were done by Wednesday. "Nothing, why?"

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You looked at yourself in the mirror, assessing the outfit. The dress you wore was a velvet, red form-fitting one that accentuated your silhouette, it reach the top of your knees with an asymmetrical hem that added an edgy touch, showcasing the velvet knee high black boots under it. A deep neckline showed the gold necklace that you never took off, with its matching earrings - gifts from your parents. You let your hair down, framing your face in subtle curls and draping over your shoukders. Your makeup was subtle with a focus on your eyes and red lipstick. The look you were going for was a combination of chic and classy.

A knock on your door caused you to open it, mouth dropping slightly when you did.

Damian Wayne stood at your doorstep wearing a suit. Confident posture and athletic physique. His tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and a trim waist. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and those green eyes of his sparkled over you with appreciation. You realized why he'd told you to wear red, a well-chosen tie hung from his neck, matching your dress in color.

"Hey, perfect girl," he gave you an appreciative look.

"Oh wow," you let the words out without thinking. Clearing your throat, you offered a shy smile. "You look really nice."

"Thanks," he put his hand in his pocket, eyes roaming your body, and he shook his head. "So do you. Very nice."

He offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him lead you to his Camaro.

"Will you not be drinking?" You asked, seated at the passenger seat.

"I dont drink." He said.

You nodded, thinking that if he wanted to elaborate, he would have. "I read up about that Gala. It's a charity event to raise money for the new wing in the children's hospital, right?"

"Right."

"I'd like to contribute, if that's still allowed." You said.

Damian smirked to himself, a dimple appearing as his perfect teeth came into view. "Do you know how much Wayne Ent. donated, y/n?"

"No," you confessed.

"You're welcome to contribute, but trust me, they're set for at least the next four years. And that's including construction."

"Wow," you couldn't bring yourself to even inagine the amount that entailed. Suddenly, your donation felt like barely anything. Your shoulders slumped slightly, and then you shook it off. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'd still like to."

He turned to give you a look, the meaning of which you couldn't decipher. "Have you ever donated at a gala before?"

You shookyour head.

He offered you his hand, and you took it.

At last, he spoke. "I'll show you how."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

The way he commanded attention in any room with mere silence should be studied, you thought.

His hand brushed your hip, leading you inside the massive banquet hall. You looked around, and massive chandeliers hung from the intricately painted fresco on the ceiling as the velvet carpet was rolled out under expensive shoes. The sound of chatter and clinging glasses was accompanied by classical music. This was an entirely different world than the one you were used to. Still, you looked around in fascination.

"Is that real Chanel?" Damian's question drew you from your thoughts. You turned to see him eyeing your dress.

You tensed. "... no." You looked down, blushing as you were painfully reminded that someone of his stature could tell the difference. Slightly embarrassed, you quietly confessed, "Mainstream brands can make good knock offs when they want to."

He nodded, gaze drifting back over the crowd. As did you, the sea of people in front of you was clad in high brand designer gowns, suits, and perfumes. Granted, your outfit was by no means cheap, and in fact, it took you a day of work to make up for it. But if he could see that your clothes were a high fashion copy, so could everyone here. In your clothes you felt like you didn't belong. For the first time in your life, you felt... cheap.

You just hoped his lack of a reaction meant a lack of judgment. Damian came both from old money and from new money, as the heir to the top weapons mogul in the world, he was used to a certain standard.

Either way, you may not have been rich but you weren't struggling. Per se.

You glanced at him, about to wonder if he felt embarrassed to be seen with you. But after thinking of it for too long, you realized... you don't care.

Very grateful to both of your parents who worked blue-collar jobs to raise you and your siblings, you learned the value of appearance from a young age. You didn't come from the best neighborhood, but you couldn't tell from the way your family presented itself. Your townhouse was always clean and well decorated. Your mother made sure to always have homemade food and put all of her kids through some kind of extracurricular activities. Which is how you go into maths and sciences. You relied on scholarships and the goodness of your teachers to make it where you did. And you never wished things were different; your life made you who you were today.

So what if you didn't wear designer brands? You had immaculate fashion sense even if it was affordable.

And suddenly, you caught yourself smiling. Suddenly, everyone's facial expressions didn't look so judgmental. Someone cleared their throat beside you, and you turned to face a beautiful couple.

The man was immediately recognizable. Matching in height with Damian, Bruce Wayne looked every bit the billionaire playboy in his classic black suit jacket, accessorized with golden cufflinks, crisp white shirt, and a black bow tie. His hair was stylized and polished. Sharp facial features, visibly similar to his son's, and a well-groomed stubble enhanced his masculine charm. He held a confident, charismatic expression that exuded mystery.

He held by the waist a woman in an elegant, form-fitting black evening gown with a daring cut at the front. Her hair was styled in an updo. A statement necklace hung around her neck. Her look complemented Bruce's style while showcasing her own elegance. She gave youband Damian a knowing smile.

"Y/n, this is my father." Damian introduced you.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne." You smiled at his father and offered to shake his hand.

He took your hand in a firm grip. "Y/n," his deep voice, also similar to Damian's, greeted you. "You interned for Wayne Industries this summer, am I correct?"

"Yes," you nodded eagerly. "In R&D. It was an amazing opportunity, sir. You run a truly unique organization."

Bruce's grin widened. "Well, I'm glad to hear. Your team lead wrote a great review after you were done. When you graduate, we'd be lucky to have you."

Your cheeks certainly reddened by now, and you felt like you were out of breath as you stuttered out a "Thank you." Or at least you hoped you did. You were pretty sure you had blacked out for a moment.

You couldn't tell Damian how grateful you were for his hand on your lower back. The touch rooting you and making you feel less intimidated, or at least protected by him.

"Thank you, Father." Damian's tone was slow but menacing. "I know young, smart, and pretty are your type, but maybe try not to steal my date? Especially when you have your own..." He gave the woman a pointed look.

She and Bruce shared a knowing look before she turned to you and said in a soft, cat-like taunt. "Careful honey. The more territorial they are, the harder it is to tell if they wish to love you..." She eyed Damian in a way that, for some reason, upset you. "Or own you."

Damian's hand tightened around your waist. The woman caught the movement before her gaze returned to yours. It felt like the air around your was a hundred degrees golder. You felt goosebumps on the back of your neck when she said. "Soon enough, you'll be lucky if Damian lets any man near you."

"I think I see the mayor." Bruce spoke up, breaking the tension, and led the woman away. "We should say hello."

When they were gone, you took in a deep breath, turning to Damian, you wispered. "Was that your mother?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Thank God no." He smiled down at you, his hand rubbing circles on your back. "Did she scare you?"

"She did."

"Yeah, my father's always had a type." He spoke in disdain. For a moment, it almost looked like he was the parent who was dissappointnent in his child's choice in partners.

A small smile crept across your lips. "What's your mother like -"

He lifted your chin and placed a kiss on your lips. A polite way to shut down your question. He pulled back an inch to whisper. "I don't want to talk about my parents anymore." Against your lips.

Message received, you nodded against him. Throughout the night you met a lot of interesting people. Of course, all of them had already known Damian. And they seemed happy to interact with you both. Shy and inexperienced in small talk, you let Damian take the lead. He answered their eager questions with ease, and you noted the way men and women hung on to his every word.

The whole time, Damian's hands never let you go, visibly claiming you in front of whatever audience you had. You took up a rather interesting conversation with a man who word for the district attorney. You nodded eagerly, agreeing with every word as he said. "It's just a different way of thinking. A mathematical one."

"Those are the kinds of conversations I want to be a part of in my line of work." You admitted.

His smiled. "I'm sure you will. If you're eager enough to make it happen. Give me a call if you ever want to come see our unit at work." He handed you a business card, and you took it, nodding gratefully.

Suddenly, you felt Damian slide up from your hip to your neck, his fingers drawing circles on your collarbone. You turned to look at him, seeing his tongue poking his cheek as he eyed the man you were talking to.

"Well." The man cleared his throat. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," you said before you were led away. Into the hall, away from the crowd.

"Where are you going?" You asked as Damian pulled you into what looked like a conference room, shutting the door behind you and pressing you against it. You looked up at him, squirming under his heated gaze. "Damian, is everything okay?"

"Leave it to you to make a two hundred dollar dress look like it was worth two thousand." He growled against your ear.

"Thank you?" You wimpered in question, unsure how to take the words.

"They were all looking at you like they wanted to take you home with them." He wispered, kissing you hard. "But they can't. You're mine."

You captured your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from moaning. The woman's words from earlier began playing in your mind. You saw Damian the way she described. Possessive, territorial. You couldn't understand why it both scared and excited you.

"Say it." He ordered. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours." You don't know why you obeyed so quickly. But the words felt right on your tongue.

"Damn right." He wispered, before kissing you hard. "Fuck, you're so beautiful." He groaned against your mouth. "I win. Out of all those men. I win."

The flattering words made you smile. It was the first time someone said something like that to you. To have it be Damian Wayne, of all people.

Eager for more of his praise, you sunk down to your knees in front of him, looking up to meet his gaze as you unbuckled his belt, lowering his pants and boxers. You bit your lip when you saw his erection, tongue sneaking out to lick up his shaft. Damian was bigger than anyone you've been with. You ran your hands over the hard muscles of his stomach before taking him in your mouth and sucking eagerly.

"Fuck yes, baby." He groaned as his fingers pulled into your hair.

You whimpered around him.

"Finger yourself while you suck my dick. Get yourself ready." He ordered.

You obeyed, you index finger touching your clit through under your dress as you whined around his cock. You worked him for minutes on end, switching from sucking to licking his head, delighting in the way his hips trusted against you and his panting sped up above you.

Damian thought he won. But looking up into his glazed dark eyes, brows furrowed in pleasure as his mouth opened... all because of you. All at your mercy. You felt like you were the one who won. No one out of all those women in that room could see him like this except you.

His hand pulled you up by your hair, pining you between himself and the wall again. You felt so fragile in his arms. "Did you finger yourself like I ask, baby?" He asked, lifting the hem of your dress.

You nodded.

His finger dipped into your whole, feeling how wet you are. He grinned at you through a hooded gaze. "Good girl."

He made quick work of lining himself up and thrusting into you. You arched off the wall and into him as your arms flew to grasp onto him. Unable to hold back, you begged him. "Damian, please kiss me!"

His lips were on yours in an instant, silencing a string of uncontrollable moans as he thrust into you over and over again. Despit holding your weight and fucking you for a long time, he never got tired. Rather he sped up, panting against your lips. "Come for me, my perfect girl,"

You nodded absentmindedly, grasping onto him, needing him as close as possible as you whispered. "Please, please..."

He thrust into you hard, both of you moaning into each other as you reached your climax. Your limbs shook even as Damian lowered you and led you to a nearby door, letting you both into a bathroom.

He used a cloth to clean up your pussy, correcting your dress and hair, before adressing his own look. All while you were dazed and coming down from the high. He held your shaking body, kissing your lips and cheeks and forehead, telling you you did a good job. At last he asked, "Are you ready to go make your donation?"

You had nearly forgotten. You turned to him, still disoriented but determined to see your goal through. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you saw that Damian did a good job of cleaning you up. Other than your flushed face, you wouldn't have been able to guess what you had just done. He offered his hand, and you took it, allowing yourself to be let out.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie just really got on your nerves today.

Warnings: smut, light spanking. A little mocking. Hope I didn't forget anything.

A/n: Not proofread

18+ minors dni

"You know you're really fucking annoying sometimes" you bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan.

You were so frustrated with him today. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction that his cock was making you feel as good as it was right now. It was difficult to hold it back. You won't lie. You just wanted to scream and call out his name. You wanted to moan so loud your neighbors heard you again.

"Oh yeah, baby? What else?" Eddie cooed and started to laugh slightly. He kept thrusting his cock harder in your pussy. He gave a powerful thrust that toppled you over. "Tell me how much I annoy you while your cunt is making a mess all over me."

Your bodies were making the most pornographic noises. It was all skin slapping against skin as his cock glided in and out of your pussy. You heard him groan low and mutter under his breath about how tight you are.

"You're such an asshole." You complained more while he laughed louder behind you. his grip on your hips tightening the more you talked shit to him. "You're always picking with me."

"Oooh! you suck my cock with that filthy little mouth?" He taunted as he rolled his hips just right causing your breath to hitch. Eddie didn't care about that last part, you said to him.

You were right he does pick, but it's always in good light-hearted fun. It's not his fault you were in a bitchy attitude today. He had the urge to ask if you would be starting your period soon, but he decided he enjoyed living too much. He kept that dangerous thought to himself. He wasn't stupid. Annoying sometimes, yes, but not stupid.

Eddie knew he was getting on your nerves today, but he just kept poking at you and poking at you. He wouldn't leave you alone. He loved that scowl and cute little pout on your fact too much to stop. until you finally snapped. his attempts at humor and overall not taking anything you say seriously really got under your skin.

now he has you on your hands and knees in your bedroom plunging his cock deeper and deeper inside you. your walls hugging around him so tight. Your back arched, and your ass went up higher, allowing him to hit all the right spots on your sensitive walls. He's watching the way your body reacted to him. Despite your obvious annoyances. That was enough to make him cum on the spot. He loved it.

You, on the other hand, just couldn't shut your mouth. You kept giving him a piece of your mind. You couldn't really pinpoint what he did exactly that pissed you off. He is just on your nerves today.

Eddie knew it, too. He loved it when you got a little annoyed with him or angry. He would let you get all your frustrations out while he fucked the attitude right out you. That was his goal for today, but he just couldn't resist teasing you a little bit more.

"Awe, is that it, though? I'm just an asshole?" He mocked while pumping his cock in your pussy relentlessly. your sensitive walls clenching around him, forcing him to grunt. His skin is coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

"A dick a really big dick." You kept fussing at him, but when he started hitting that spot on your walls, your mind went blank for a moment. You pressed your forehead to the bed, whimpering.

"Yea, yea, I know my dick is big now what else?." Eddie rolled his eyes. His tone is riddled with sarcasm. Every time you threw an insult at him his cock just went in rougher. He was continuously taunting you. "Keep'em comin, sweetheart."

"n-no....you're just a really bi--" you gasp as his hand came down to deliver a good harsh slap to your ass, shutting you up instantly.

"I'm just a what baby? what was that?" Eddie chuckled and slapped your ass hard again. your silence was enough to earn you a cocky chuckle from him.

"thought so." He mumbled, and his pace increased to the point that you couldn't even remember what you mad at him for now.

"Don't mock me!" You pouted and pushed your hips back against him. You didn't remember what you were mad about. that wasn't going to stop you from trying to fuss at him.

"Can't handle it?" Eddie bit his lip and shook his head. He's waiting for you to look back at him so he can see that bottom lip wobble.

You won't give him that satisfaction of that. Not yet, at least. He wants to have you begging and crying by the end of this. He wants to hear you begging and pleading to let you cum. He craves to see crying on his cock while filling you up with all of his cum.

He sighed, and his tone was more stern than playful. "So ya gonna bitch some more or you gonna shut up and take my cock like a good girl?"

All you could was groan in annoyance and let a quiet little whimper. His stern voice gives you goosebumps all over your body.

Instead of you talking back you focused on how his cock was making you feel so full. The way it rubbed on your g-spot with every thrust. Or how it felt when he first split you open. the way he struggled a little to make it all fit. He always knew how to shut you up when you got in one of these little moods. Yet you could never deny having his cock. No matter how much he got on your last nerve.

Eddies pace became more frantic. Your pussy was dripping all over his balls. He groans so loud when you push back on him again. his hips slamming against your ass hard, it caused a ripple effect. your complaints now were replaced with moans. You're fisting and clawing at the sheets. whatever you were mad at him for has long been forgotten now. Whatever it was he did wasn't even important at this very moment anymore.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

AHHHH CONGRATS ON 5K- YOU DESERVE ALL OF THEM AND SO SO MUCH MORE (I’m absolutely obsessed with your account it makes me so happy)

If you’re still taking requests could I have a bbf!Jake one where they’re at a bar again and this time someone really creepy is hitting on baby Bradshaw and even though she’s trying to get away from him, he won’t leave her alone. Cue super Jake to the rescue (and he’s pissed)

I hope this is okay and if not, don’t worry about it :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY <333

OOOH I LOVE ME SOME PROTECTIVE JAKE! And thank you sm for your kind words, lovely <3

I'm gonna say this drabble is an extension of Part 4 of BBF but really can probably be read on its own. Here we go!

5k Weekend Bash Drabbles

Brother's Best Friend - N-O Spells No

Jake Seresin x Reader

“C’mon, sweetheart, let me buy you a drink,” says the man with the slicked-back hair and smarmy leer for a third time, taking a seat at your table on the patio.

His friends at a neighboring table guffaw, apparently finding their friend’s persistent approach hilarious. You find it extremely disrespectful. “No, thanks,” you respond, again.

The man’s grin broadens as though your rejection spurs him on. He slides his chair in closer and leans in to whisper something in your ear. But, before he has a chance to speak, you decide that you’ve had enough and rise from your seat. You’d rather forfeit your table than put up with any more of this bullshit.

You start for the door to go into the bar, but the man leaps up to follow you. He catches up with you just as you’re about to enter and takes you by the arm, spinning you around to face him. “You don’t know what you’re missing, honey,” he mutters and his voice makes your skin crawl.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Jake as he’s about to place his drink order at the counter. The disturbance near the front door has made him glance in your direction and his expression darkens when he sees you. He immediately steps away from the bar, forgetting all about the drinks he just paid for, and marches determinedly toward the door.

Before you could tell the creep to watch out, Jake is outside, curling his arm around your waist to relocate you so that he could turn back and grab a hold of the man’s shirt, ramming him into the wall, back first. “Who the fuck are you?” he growls at the – now cowering – man.

“I’m a friend, I’m a friend!” the man exclaims in alarm, his hands shooting up to show that he’s not looking for a fight.

You give the man a disgusted scowl when he looks over at you pleadingly, hoping that you’ll corroborate his statement. Jake glances over his shoulder at you too. “This true?” he asks. “You know him?”

You’re silent for a moment, wondering what Jake would do if you told him the truth. You really don’t want him getting banned from the Hard Deck for starting a fight on your behalf.

But Jake takes your lack of a response as a no and pulls on the man’s collar just to slam him back into the wall again. The man, to your great satisfaction, looks like he’s about to cry. “She didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend!” the man cries.

Jake grimaces aggressively. “Did she tell you to fuck off?” he asks dangerously.

The man gulps anxiously. “If she’d just told me she was with somebody” –

“What the fuck does that matter?” Jake shoves the man into the wall for a third time and the latter whimpers pathetically. “No is a full fucking sentence.”

“Okay, Jake, that’s enough,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. “I think he got the idea.”

Jake glances down at you with a heavy sigh and then back at the snivelling man. Then, he lowers his head and mutters in a low, intimidating voice, “You come near her again, I’m not gonna be this nice.”

The man nods vehemently and, the moment Jake lets go of him, he slips away, ditching his friends – who, admittedly, hadn’t even come to his aid – as they scramble to collect their things before following him out.

Jake turns to look at you worriedly. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking a step toward you.

You nod. “Yeah, thanks for coming to my rescue,” you reply. “Although, I totally could’ve taken him.”

Jake draws his lips together to keep from smiling; he’s not ready to find the humor in the situation quite yet. “You shouldn’t have had to,” he remarks.

You shrug and meet his gaze. “I’m glad you were here.”

Jake nods and then takes your shoulder and pulls you into an embrace. “Me too,” he says.

You close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to enjoy the hug because there isn’t often an excuse to lean in while Jake Seresin just holds you. In fact, you can’t think if a single time in recent history when this type of scenario has taken place. Suddenly, you’re not too mad about the creep that almost ruined your day.

“Where’s my brother?” you ask once the two of you separate.

Jake sighs with a grin and shakes his head. “He took off.”

“What? With that chick he just met?”

Jake nods sheepishly, as though he’s somehow to blame for Bradley’s promiscuity. You grin at him. “Perfect,” you say. “Now, we have plenty of time to talk about the thing.”

Jake cringes and lets out a defeated groan.

5k Celly